


Wait For It

by Eupraxia (starfireone3)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: A little unwarranted gay panic, Alpha!Bitty, Alternate Universe, Coming Out, Kid Fic, M/M, Minor Hockey RPF, Omega Verse, Omega!Jack, dad!Jack, past alcohol abuse, past drug abuse, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-04 09:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 25,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5329307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfireone3/pseuds/Eupraxia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack has hidden who he was in hopes of attaining his goal for so long and given up a lot to try to make it to the NHL. And now here is this little omega on his team, who is everything the world would say he should be if he knew and somehow the guy is still managing to play hockey. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard if the guy wasn't so cute.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Jack stared at that brilliant smile and felt his stomach drop. “Don’t worry about it.” He stopped himself from making a comment about how as captain it was his job to keep anyone on the team from dragging them down; he didn’t want Bittle to stop smiling like that. And as if in response to the comment's absence Bittle’s smile grew wider and it was like someone had pulled the ice out from under him.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>He was so fucked.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, I wanted to say thanks to my cheerleaders for helping get this thing finished. 
> 
> Also, I only pretend to know things about Hockey.
> 
> This fic is complete and will update weekly.

Jack inwardly cursed when he saw the frog, small and excited; he was obviously an omega (despite the scent neutralizers he was wearing). He was the type of omega people would want Jack to be if they knew. Of course, Jack (and the world) knew that omegas came in all shapes and sizes, but there was still an ideal and this kid was it. If there was one thing Jack knew about hockey it was this: the ideal omega couldn’t hack it.

At first, the kid, Bittle, proved him wrong. He was the fastest skater on the team with damn soft hands, but then Jack realized Bittle flinched whenever someone came near him and Jack knew he was right. It was proved the first time Bittle was checked. Jack sighed.

“The guy has never been in a league with contact before.” Shitty shrugged as Jack complained to him. 

“He’ll get used to it.”

Jack grumbled. “Shits, he bakes, he sings, he flits around. He is the omega you can take home to your mother. He is made to be coddled. He is not going to get used to it.”

“Way to be dynamic essentialist Jack.” Shitty didn’t hesitate to call Jack out and Jack shot Shitty a loathing look, because how would he know. He was a beta; he could be whatever he wanted to be. “If he is an omega, would it really be so bad to have another omega on the team, maybe you could talk or like have each other’s backs?” Shitty knew, had known since freshman year. And if he hadn’t known before he’d know now, sharing a bathroom with Jack his scent neutralizing shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and deodorant all sitting there on the shelf in the shower.

“I don’t think this is one of those places where omega solidarity gets put into play. Besides, you’ve got my back.” Shitty hmmmed at that, not asking who had Bittle’s back. The next day Jack made sure Bittle came to checking practice but he didn’t tell Bittle his omega status.

“You know, I am getting better.” Bittle smiled at him after Jack had pressed him against the boards and Bittle hadn’t even screamed. “Thank you.”

Jack stared at that brilliant smile and felt his stomach drop. “Don’t worry about it.” He stopped himself from making a comment about how as captain it was his job to keep anyone on the team from dragging them down; he didn’t want Bittle to stop smiling like that. And as if in response to the comments absence Bittle’s smile grew wider and it was like someone had pulled the ice out from under him.

He was so fucked.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a panic attack and family weekend.

Jack knew what they called omegas who fell for other omegas: inverts, sick, unnatural. And worse. 

Shitty found him having a panic attack on the bathroom floor. He didn’t ask any questions, he just sat there and held Jack’s hand. If Shitty was an alpha Jack wouldn’t have minded being his omega.

“I just don’t want to be wrong in two ways.” Jack got out when he was a little calmer but could still feel the pressure of tears behind his eyes.

“Oh, bro.” Shitty reached out and pulled Jack into his arms. Pulling him until Jack was half in Shitty’s lap with Jack’s head on Shitty’s shoulder. “You are wrong in no ways, bro. Well maybe in that you like that caterwauling you call music.”

“I’m not your omega, Shitty.” Jack grumbled at the manhandling and at the comfort being offered. Alphas didn’t need comfort.

“No, you’re not my omega, you’re my friend.” Shitty gave Jack an extra squeeze to prove his point. 

Later, Jack was lured out of his room by a sweet smell of something that was finished or near finished baking. Bittle’s doing, of course. Jack’s first instinct was to smile and then he realized why and he nearly threw up. He went downstairs anyway.

Bittle was in the kitchen, switching his hips to a song that went “when no one is around you say baby I love you” and Jack had to force himself not to react, not to watch, not to listen.

There was a pie cooling on the windowsill. Bittle saw him looking. 

“It’s apple maple.” He smirked. “Made with real canadian maple syrup.” He let the smirk fall and looked up earnestly at Jack. “I knew you weren’t feeling well earlier and I know you won't talk to anyone about it, but I thought you might like this.” Bittle doesn’t wait for Jack’s abortive attempt at feelings and instead plows ahead. “It’ll be cool in five minutes, sit down and listen to Destiny’s Child with me.”

Against his better judgment Jack sat, even though he had no idea who Destiny’s Child is.

Apparently, it involved Beyonce. Jack shook his head: Bittle.

Before he knew it, it was family weekend and his parents were there. And Vivienne his sister, who was not sister. Even though he skyped his family often he was amazed at how much Vivienne had grown. Her hair, as always was a mess of cowlicks and the sort of red that would settle into his mother’s auburn as Vivienne got older. Jack didn’t know whether to smile or frown at her nose. It was definitely Kenny’s nose. 

“Vivi!” Shitty exclaimed when he saw her. “My favorite. Do you remember who I am?” He asked even though Shitty crashed Jack’s family skype almost every week. 

The four year old rolled her eyes and Jack wondered where she got it from and then he realized it was him. “I know who you are, Shitty.” And her accent was thick, and she sort of tripped over the the English words but it was obvious what she said. In hindsight, Jack would have found another name to call Shitty around Vivienne but hindsight is 20/20 and Bad Bob seemed to think it’s hilarious and that’s what matters, what her parents think.

It was Bittle’s first time meeting his family and the only thing that kept Bittle from being completely starstruck was Bittle’s absolute horror that his mother was completely starstruck. 

Bittle’s horror faded away fast when he met Vivienne. She had wriggled out of Jack’s arms at that point after being carried around most of campus. Jack would have carried her all day if he could. Bittle took a knee to greet her. Short as he was, he really was on her level. Or closer than Jack ever would be kneeling.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Vivienne.” Bittle put his hand out to shake and Jack resisted the urge to tell him to keep his words small, she was four and English wasn’t her first language after all.

Vivienne giggled. “I’m just Vivienne.”

“Well then, just Vivienne. I’m Eric.” Vivienne smiled and gave the hand Eric offered a tiny shake.

“You play with Jack.” She squinted at Bittle.

“Yes. I love playing with Jack.” Bittle grinned.

“Jack is the best.” Vivienne proclaimed and Jack felt something in his chest that had been tight since he left for school freshman year loosen, slightly.

“Jack is the best.” Bittle agreed with a grin but he wasn’t looking at Vivienne, he was looking up at Jack with his big brown eyes. Jack had never realized that Bittle’s lashes were so long before.

“Jack was going to take to get ice cream. You come.” It was as much of a demand as a request. Bittle laughed. 

In a matter of minutes, Bittle thoroughly charmed Jack’s sister, who was not Jack’s sister. Jack realized he shouldn’t be surprised being good with children is part of the perfect omega package.

Before Jack knew it, family weekend was over and his parents and Vivienne were gone. He missed them immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters get longer as the fic goes on, promise.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is Halloween and Winter Break

Jack had never dressed up for Halloween at the Haus, and usually only made cursory appearances. Jack didn’t really like big loud parties. All the people made him anxious and the desire to drink to excess could get a little strong. So when Bittle asked him what he going to the party as he gave his usual answer. 

“I don’t dress up for Halloween.” But then Bittle looked at him with those big eyes, looking so disappointed, pouting really, and something inside Jack twisted and “Um, but, I could start? I’ll be a cat.” The words stumbled off his tongue and he didn’t know what he was doing but Bittle was beaming at him now and wasn’t that worth it.

He didn’t stay at the party long. Just long enough to see Ransom and Holster decimate someone at Beer Pong, take a selfie with Bittle, eat a meat pie, and have Shitty give him the raised eyebrow I know what you’re doing here look. It’s after the look that he fled.

It wasn’t long after the party that they had their last game before winter break, against Yale. A team universally hated by SMH. It went beyond rivalry. The Yale team was made up of a bunch of douches who were probably all on steroids and said nasty things about Lardo after the game. If they said it in a chirp during the game to get them riled up and off their game, that could be forgiven (but not easily). Anything said after the game, they meant and they knew Lardo wouldn’t take kindly to a fight to defend her honor but they could put how they felt into how they played.

It went beyond that for Jack too, because his father, Bad Bob, was watching, and that made this something else. He had to prove to his dad that he was worth everything that had been done to get him here: the suppressants, rehab, raising Vivienne. After he overdosed, his dad could have just taken it as a sign that Jack couldn’t hack it but he’d let him try again. He’d given Jack another chance to not be a disappointment and Jack didn’t want to let him down.

Yale played hard. Jack gave it everything he got. At the end of third they were tied and Jack didn’t want to take this to overtime. He wanted to get the puck and score. He could prove who was the better team and who was worthy. They had only seconds on the board and Bittle got the puck and instead of passing it he scored. They won but Jack’s heart was in his throat for all the wrong reasons. He hadn’t done it. He hadn’t proved that he was worth every little bit of sacrifice his father had invested in him, every afternoon spent out on the pond. The person who was “worthy” was a Home and Gardens picture perfect omega and no, it couldn’t have been skill. It had to have been a lucky shot.

After the game, it was time for winter break and Jack headed home to Montreal. He avoided his father, but spent every moment he could with Vivienne. He carried her around in his arms until she got sick of the novelty and kicked until he put her down. She was an active child. She knew how to skate and had scraped palms from trying to climb a tree in the backyard. Part of Jack wanted to wrap her in cotton and wool so she’d never get hurt, even though she didn’t seem to mind. 

She’d gotten bigger again and there were toys in her room he didn’t recognize.

When he played with her in the backyard, their snow boots clomping into the snow, his father watched him with knowing eyes. Jack hoped the look wasn’t judging, that it was just his anxiety, but his father has cleaned up so much of his shit, taken care of his mistakes, and what if Jack wasn’t good enough after all and didn’t make it. He had to make it.

Jack spent a lot of time around his mother. She sat on the couch and read while he played on the floor with Vivienne. She walked at his side as Vivienne ran ahead on their way to the park. 

Despite the snow on the ground and the cold weather there were a lot of kids at the park, all bundled up. Some of them Vivienne’s friends: kids he had never met. He let her go play with them and she was off, running and laughing. He sat on a bench with his mother and watched. She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “It’ll work out.”

Jack skipped his appointment with his therapist to sit in the back of Vivienne’s ballet class with her classmates parents and watch her flail around. He felt like this was much more therapeutic option than talking to a stranger (even though she was not quite so strange now) about his feelings.

Jack loved getting on the ice with his family. It was funny but he never worried about his father judging his skill as a player when they were on the ice together. Passing a puck with his dad reminds him of when he was a kid, only now Vivienne was the one new to the ice. Sure she knew how to skate, but no four-year-old was that coordinated; though she was more coordinated than Jack was at that age. And Maman was still skating around them with the camera taking pictures. 

Jack watched Vivienne skate and he was pretty sure, she was more coordinated than most four-year olds but Jack didn’t know many four year olds. He made a note to talk to his dad about getting her signed up for a mites team (or was it called an initiation team now?).

Going back to Samwell made his chest ache, but Jack still felt like he fit there more than he did at home.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lardo comes back and there is hockey.

Lardo got back in the spring. Jack didn’t realize how much he missed her until he was pulling her into a hug. He was relieved that she was back. She wasn’t an omega; she was a beta like Shitty, but she was the team’s lone girl. Having her around made him feel less the odd man out even though Bittle had been around since fall semester and only Shitty knew he was an omega.

One of the things he really liked about Lardo was her ability to just be. Jack loved Shitty but he liked to chatter which sometimes wasn’t what Jack needed. That afternoon, Jack found himself out on the reading room with Lardo just staring out at the sky. The sun wasn’t setting yet, it was at the moment just before and they were both staring out at it, silent. It was beautiful, it was the world holding its breath in anticipation of something more.

“I’ve got to paint something that feels like this.” Lardo said finally, and the corners of Jack’s mouth quirked up. It’d be nice to be able to capture this somehow.

 

Jack spent his time during the kegster thrown in Lardo’s honor locked in his room.

The next week Bittle was put on Jack’s line and at first Jack was furious. Bittle was not ready to play first line, and if having someone not ready to play on his line made him better what did that say about Jack? Then Jack wanted to laugh because, really?, two omegas on first line; if only they knew.

Bittle did prove himself out on the ice through.

It was kind of galling actually. Bittle was everything an alpha could want and he could play too. He skated like the wind and his hands were the kind of soft that made Shitty make obscene noises when they watched playbacks. Bittle was still scared of being checked but with how fast he skated Jack wasn’t sure that it mattered. Bittle was on Jack’s line now and Jack wouldn’t have minded naming some of their plays after the allies successful offenses in WWII.

Tadpole day came around, and Bittle was off being Super!Omega, making goodie bags of all things, but Jack had to admit it was kind of cute (he didn’t let himself think about that thought). Jack tries to spend as little time as possible with the tadpoles, as a rule, since they tend to ogle. He leaves that duty up to Shitty, even though as captain it was technically his job.

After the tadpoles left it was down to the business of the playoffs. Jack was relieved they made it. They worked hard for it and they weren’t going to slow down now. If anything Jack worked his team harder, was harder on them during drills, met with Bittle for checking practice more often. 

And it paid off. They were good. Better than. And there was nothing like the feeling of having Bittle in his arms after he’d pull him close during a celly. Jack tried not to think about that to hard, about the warm weight of Bittle there against him and the sound of Bittle’s laugh. If he let himself linger he’d have another panic attack and he didn’t need that, not in the middle of a game. If he thought about it sometimes at night panicky breath gasping out as the moonlight filtered in through his windows? Who was to know.

They were smashing the play-offs. Jack got a hatty, which left him stunned (because he hadn’t really been paying attention to how many points he was scoring just the overall score) and self-satisfied (because of course he did, he worked hard to be this good, because hell yeah the omega got the hatty) and nervous (because what if he never did it again). Of course Shitty insisted they all go out to celebrate, they’d made it to the finals. Jack feeling good and high on self-confidence got a beer. He wouldn’t drink at parties where he could be tempted to drink to excess but here with just the team he’d be fine. 

Then the stupid sports commentators came on talking about how he couldn’t hack it. How he wasn’t good enough. One of them even mentioned that he registered for the juniors as a beta and that maybe if he was an alpha (like his dad) he’d be able to make it. Jack held in a derisive snort, what would they say if they knew Jack was an omega. He growled instead of let himself gasp with rising panic.

Suddenly Jack wanted a second beer and a third one or three of his old pills or one of the little pills Kenny used to put on his tongue at parties--he was never addicted to those but they made him full of good and bright and shiny, made him want to touch people. He really wanted that second beer.

Jack frowned and pushed away from the table before walking out of the bar, not even trying to listen to his teammates attempts at consoling him. He knew what would happen if he didn’t get out of that bar. Maybe he shouldn’t have had that first beer. It was half the reason Jack didn’t go to the AA and NA meetings his therapist liked to nag him about. They’d see a problem with his occasional beer, but really what was the harm in a little beer. Jack snorted as he felt the red brick of the bar’s facade press into his back as he leaned determinedly against it; his therapist thought the Haus with all of it’s kegsters was an unhealthy environment for him. Jack was pretty sure it was the healthiest place for him at Samwell.


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yale wants revenge.

The final was against Yale, the big aggressive bastards. The smallest of them was four of Bittle and Bittle was, obviously, worried but Bittle was going to be okay because Jack had his back.

Jack was trying to not worry about the hat Bittle had pulled down over his ear on the walk to the locker room, or the way he’d jammed on his helmet as soon as he’d taken the hat off. Bittle’d never done that before and as much as Jack wished he wasn’t one of those superstitious hockey players he kind of was.

They played well but Yale’s team was made of fierce competitors some of whom seemed to have it out for Bittle since he scored the winning goal against them the last time they faced off. The game was a battle. But then as the mili-seconds ticked down Jack had the puck and an opportunity and he took his shot at the same time a Yale defenseman took his.

Jack didn’t even process that they’d won, because he was still processing Bittle lying prone on the ice, his helmet knocked somewhere off to the side.

Then as Jack skated closer the rink smelled less of rancid sweat and ice and more of Bittle but it’s different than usual deeper, muskier. It was the scent of an alpha and somewhere part of his brain was registering that Bittle must have been out of his scent nullifying shampoo, but most of him was just in shock. Bittle was an alpha; Jack wasn’t an invert after all. 

Then the scent of blood cut through his shock and Jack was worry all over.

Jack skated back to the team and away from the smell of blood and Bittle as the medics got Bittle off the ice. Everyone looked worried, but no one looked surprised like Jack felt; Jack realized that he might have been the closest one to Bitty. No, Shitty was closer, but he didn’t look very surprised either. 

They got word back quickly on Bittle, he had a concussion and he needed a few stitches. He would be fine but he wouldn’t be able to skate all summer.

That night Jack dreamed of Bittle’s knot. 

He felt dirty all over afterwards. Bittle was hurt, besides with the path Jack had chosen an alpha wasn’t for him. It would just mess everything up.


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A double posting What! I thought the last chapter was a little short so you get this one too.
> 
> In which there is pie.

After their win a somber sort of happiness took over the Haus. They won, but they didn’t have a kegster because Bittle couldn't go, too much loud music and drinking for him before he’d even really started healing. Instead, Bittle baked for them, as much as he could, all of their favorites got made, with Ransom and Holster putting things into the oven and taking them out between finals since bending over made Bittle woozy.

When Jack stumbled into the kitchen for a snack post history final. He found Bittle staring at a big bowl of cake batter and a tray of mini cake molds. For a moment Jack wondered how Bittle got all his baking things into the Haus when he didn’t even live there, yet. Johnson had given him dibs so he’d be moving in in the fall. Standing there watching Bittle look at the batter and the molds made Jack realize that they were alone for the first time since he failed Bittle.

Bittle spoke first. “I’m sorry for lying, for making you think I was...different than what I am.”

For a moment Jack was stunned to silence. “I’m not angry.” The words felt like a cough, scratching at his throat on the way up, not because he didn’t believe what he was saying but because he hadn’t known they were necessary. “We all have things we want to hide. Things we lie about, about who we are. It’s easier sometimes, sometimes it’s safer.”

Bittle looked up at Jack his mouth an “o” of surprise.

“Now, I understand if you’re mad at me.” Jack raised his shoulders in what was as close to a shrug as he got with people who weren’t Shitty. “I said I’d have your back and,” Jack gestured at Bittle.

Bittle sighed looking at once both flustered and a little pitying. “Oh bless your heart, Jack.” He looked like he wanted to reach up and pat Jack’s cheek. “You said you’d have my back not be a one man Eric Bittle defense squad. I was only hit once in the entire game, and not until the very end.”

Jack froze unsure of how to react.

“You going to be around long?” Bittle filled the awkward silence. “I was waiting to pour these until I could be sure I could get them in and out of Betsy without burning.

“I’m done for the day.” Jack came over and sat at the table, snack forgotten. “Don’t you have finals, Eric?” The name was out of his mouth before he’d thought about it but Bittle-Eric- was beaming at him and it felt like a hat trick in a way that meant he’d try to drop it into conversation again.

“I’ve got a time extension on my finals. Took my first two on Monday. My last two are tomorrow.”

“And of course, you’re not studying.” Jack snorted.

“Was that a chirp?” Bittle seemed pleased, suddenly more at ease than he had been since Jack entered. “I do better if I bake before a test than if I study. Tried and tested.” Eric blinked at him guilelessly.

“If you say so.” Jack rolled his eyes. “What do I need to do?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are prospect camps and a photo album.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that I only pretend to know things about Hockey.

After school was out Jack got two blessed weeks at home in Montreal before it was time for the prospect camps for potential future players. Vivienne had grown again and he spent much of those two weeks giving her piggyback rides. She had acquired a fascination with all things creepy and crawly so they spent time in the backyard digging up worms. It never crossed her mind to cut them in half and they always put them back when they were done. 

Afterwards she proclaimed that he was “the best big brother ever”. He made himself smile big and happy like it was the honor that it was. “Dominique’s brother Jean-Paul,” she confided, “doesn’t even play hockey.” Jack laughed at that, tickling her sides before swinging her in a big arc and depositing her on his hip.

When he was not with Vivienne he was helping coach at the local hockey camp. It was run by the same people he used to coach for before Samwell. None of the kids knew who he was. They were all too young to have been paying attention to the Juniors when he was in, which was nice. They weren’t in awe of him until he was on the ice skating circles around their normal coaches. He earned their respect on talent and dedication alone.

Most of the kids were average players but a few of them had a shot at Juniors and maybe someday the NHL. He didn’t give them any special attention though. His job was to do one on one workshops with the kids; he pulled each kid out for a half-hour of the day giving them the extra pointers they needed to improve their skill level.

Soon it was time to go. The kids at camp seemed sad to see him leave, and Jack was a little sad to leave them but he knew they were in good hands.

He was used to saying goodbye to his parents for hockey. He had been doing it since he was fourteen. This was no different. He’d never gotten used to saying goodbye to Vivienne. He scooped her up, pressed his nose to her mess of cowlicks and just breathed her in, she smelled likes kids’ strawberry shampoo. He tried not to think about how he already missed her on the plane.

The first prospect camp he went to was The Blackhawks’ in Chicago. None of the actual team was there, just the other invitees, the coach, Q, and other staff watching: judging and weighing them. Jack was the oldest of the invitees and the others didn’t talk to him. He caught them pointing and whispering a couple of time though.

It didn’t matter because as always Jack played hard and never let up for a second. He didn’t care about the other invitees but he knew that they’d leave with a healthy respect for him at the least.

It was on one of the last days that Q pulled him aside as he was getting ready to go back to his hotel.

“You’ve consistently been the best player on the ice out there this year.” Q nodded at him and Jack was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to say anything like that to the invitees. “We watched your game against Yale.” Q offered and Jack almost choked. “It was a good game, good game. That shot you took at the end was a beaut.”

Jack wanted to feel gratified even though he had mixed feelings of his own about that shot, that game. 

“Your teammate, the little one, fastest person I’ve seen on college ice, damn soft hands too. Such a shame. I can’t believe they put him on the ice. I would never play someone that delicate.” And Jack knew right away that by delicate he means omega. That this man, this alpha (Q did not bother to hide his scent, why would he?) had assumed that Bittle was an omega because of his size, possibly the way he handled the puck, the way he took that hit.

“Bittle’s a great player.” Jack countered. “He works hard, trains hard, plays hard.”

Q shook his head. “I’m not arguing that. He’s obviously good and works hard but omegas should be protected, not put in harm’s way. He shouldn’t have been played and Ruskin,” Yale’s defenseman, “should feel ashamed for going after him. I hope your teammate has an alpha looking after him.”

Jack didn’t say anything, even though he wanted to blurt that Bittle is an alpha, that Bittle may be the most delicate person Jack has ever met but he is tough as nails and can look after himself. Jack wanted to blurt that no one who has given birth or might should be classified as delicate. Instead Jack stayed quiet, mulling over how he would never play for the Blackhawks.

Back in his hotel room he poured himself a glass of water. He wished it was something stronger but he never drank when he felt like this. He had sorrow knotted in his stomach and he wished someone’s arms were wrapped around him, comforting. But he couldn’t want a thing like that. It was too needy, too obviously omega. He felt like someone would know, even if it was just in his head. Besides who would he ask? Shitty was all the way in Boston. Not that he would ask Shitty in the first place.

Before he knew it, he was pulling out his laptop to skype. Shitty’s face filled up his screen after 3 rings. He started to ask how camp was going then saw Jack’s face and instead started talking about his awful paternal family, who he was with this week. And that Jack thought was it’s own sort of hug.

That night before he went to bed he reached for his phone and sent Bittle a text. He didn’t know what to say so he just sent, “Don’t forget to rest up,” because knowing Bittle he was probably still up dancing to Beyonce or something and he needed rest so he could heal.

The Bruins camp was better from the get go. The other invitees talked to him and some of them were also over 20. At the end of the third day one of the other invitees, Pushkin, a black young man with hints of a Russian accent, skated over.

“I think you’ll be better than Bad Bob, “ he grinned and suddenly Jack found himself being pulled into a group connected by common drive and struck through with biting competition. They drove each other to be better.

They went to the hotel bar one night and everyone stared when Jack ordered a beer.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” asked Simms, 17, who wouldn’t be getting his own beer without his fake ID.

And Jack thought about what it looked like to everyone who didn’t know him: an addict ordering a beer. And Jack thought about what it would look like to the Bruins when they found out: a mistake waiting to happen, a player who wasn’t as together as he pretended, a waste of resources. He needed to do damage control.

When his beer was delivered he gave it to Fina, who was 21 and built like a brick wall. When they stared again he shrugged, decidedly casual. “What? I don’t need it. Alcohol wasn’t my problem, but I won’t drink if it makes you uncomfortable.” The guys visibly relaxed after that.

Then Pushkin started to brag about his girlfriend “the toughest omega he’s ever met”. She rock climbed, sometimes marking new paths where no one had climbed before. Pushkin was brimming with pride. Some of the guys were skeptical but Jack nodded and told him he made a good catch.

Jack tried not to think about what it would be like for an alpha to be proud of him like that. He wouldn’t even acknowledge the part of him that was imagining Bittle being proud of him like that.

Jack got smiles and handshakes from Bruins management at the end of the camp. Phone numbers and skype handles from some of the guys.

“You’re a weird motherfucker, “ Pushkin clapped him on the back as they left. “Keep in touch.”

On the flight to Montreal, Jack wondered what they would say if they knew: Q and Pushkin and Simms and all the rest. He wanted to know why the world was trying to make him choose between what he loved and what he was. They shouldn’t have to be at odds. 

The Canadiens prospect camp was smooth, easy. Sometimes it felt too easy. But they knew him there. This was where he pooped in the Stanley cup. Jean-Jacques Daigneault had literally known him his entire life. 

“You really do remind me of your father.” Daigneault told him, and echos of that ESPN show ringing in his ears. He did not want to be Bad Bob Lite.

After that he could really head home, where he could talk hockey with his dad, listen to his mom sing, and hug Vivienne one last time before he headed back to Samwell.

They celebrated his birthday before he returned. His mom sung in her perfect contro-alto (if musicals had been popular when she was a star Jack was sure she’d have been in them all) and gave him a smacking kiss on his forehead that made him turn red even though only his dad and Vivienne were there to see it. For his birthday, his mom gave him a coffee table book on the different kinds of German U-Boats in WWII and a promise to pay for him to go see the U-505 in Chicago. Vivienne gave him a drawing of the two of them in the back yard. He looked giant and hulking next to the little stick figure that was Vivienne, his hands bigger than her head. In the drawing they were both brown from digging in the mud. 

His father didn’t give him his gift until later, when they were alone. It was a photo album. All family photos. Jack and Bob and Vivienne on the ice, Vivienne on Jack’s shoulders in the pool, Jack and Alicia floating on those floating loungers in the pool. When Jack got to the end of the photo album the fabric spread over the back cover looks odd, slightly lumpy. Jack saw a seam and slid his nail under it, to find more hidden sheets of photos. These were older. There were photos of Jack looking worn and tired and round after rehab, tension tight around his eyes. There was a photo of Jack rounder with a blissed out smile as his mother scratched his head. There were photos Jack, still round, looking harsh and serious watching Hockey with his father. Then there was the photo of Jack looking pale, fringe plastered to his face with sweat, staring with shock at the tiny bundle in his arms. There were more like that with Jack looking shocked at the tiny little person he’s holding. In some of them you could see the awe too. 

Jack remembered those days. Remembered being stunned because something that precious came out of him, stunned because he didn’t kill her when by all rights he should have. He remembered getting up when she cried in the middle of the night because it wasn’t fair to his parents to make them get up when they were already doing so much. He remembered holding her all night because she’d cry when he put her down. He remembered falling in love.

“She’s yours.” His father broke the silence. “No matter what we’ve told her and the world so you can play hockey, she’s yours and we haven’t forgotten that.” Bob took a deep breath. “Jack if you have, if you want, if you change your mind we won’t hold that against you. You don’t have to try to make me proud or live up to something. We want you to be happy. We’ll help you figure it out.”

“I want to play hockey.” He said and it felt like it came out too fast, like a rejection, when it wasn’t; it was an affirmation. “It’s tough but I’m not going to stop here. I’m going to make it to the NHL.”

Bob smiled, “Okay,” Bob pulled Jack into a hug and Jack startled unused to accepting physical affection after a month and a half of pretending like he didn’t need anything or anyone, then he relaxed into it and hugged back. “You’re going to show ‘em all that it can be done.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a new school year begins.

When Jack got back to Samwell, Bittle was walking up the steps from a mid-size car, box in his arms, and Jack was so stunned by how he looked that he almost forgot to pay the taxi. The first thing Jack noticed was the hair. It had been shorn on the sides and it made him look older; it looked good. Jack wondered how the shorn sides would feel under his hands. Jack was astonished that he noticed the hair before the shorts. Bittle was wearing the shortest things Jack had ever seen on him. He didn’t think Bittle would own shorts that short. And here’s the thing, Bittle complained about not having a hockey butt, but he had a figure skating butt: pert and firm. Jack could see how those shorts were skimming rounded flesh, just the right size to fit in Jack’s hands. Jack stopped that train of thought before his cheeks broadcast it to the world.

On the whole though, Bittle was tan and golden like Georgia had been good to him, like he got a lot of that sun he missed so much during the winter. It looked like if Jack ran his hands down the corded muscle of Bittle’s skinny arms they’d still be sun warm. 

Jack turned to stare at the car, knowing he needed to stop thinking about touching Bittle, getting his hands on him. Mrs. Bittle was at the car. Watching him. She smiled and waved. Jack waved sheepishly back.

“Hello, Jack, how was your summer?” She asked cheerily as she hefted a box.

“Good. Played a lot of hockey.”

She nodded like that was expected, which well…

“Let me get my bag inside, and then I’ll help you with those boxes.”

Jack dropped his bag in his room and when he stepped out into the hall Bittle was bending down to pick up something he’d dropped, pert ass up in the air, those short shorts riding up to reveal untanned cheek. Jack made himself look away. He never thought Bittle moving in would be hard, he spent enough time at the Haus already, but this was obviously going to be different.

It didn’t take Jack long to get into his regular routine. He started his first full day at Samwell by going to Faber. When he got back to the Haus something seemed off.

He opened the door and was greeted by a chorus of “Surprise!”

“Happy Belated Birthday, Bro!” Shitty crowed and tackled him. 

“My birthday was last week.” Jack frowned up at Shitty who was sitting on him.

“Still close enough for us to say we love our captain.” Shitty ruffled his hair and got off him. “Besides Bitty made a special pie just for you.”

“Wouldn’t let us touch it.” Ransom grumbled.

“You picked it up!” Wicks rolled his eyes.

“But we didn’t get to eat it.” Holster answered.

“It’s a maple sugar crusted apple pie.” Bittle explained, “With maple sugar and syrup imported from Canada.”

“Really?” Jack asked doing his best not to blush. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention.

“Really.” Bittle beamed.

“Okay, Bittle, got a present what did you lot get me?” Jack surveyed his team with a raised eyebrow and watched them blanch.

Shitty watched them with a smile playing along his lips. “You’ve played with him this long and you still don’t know when he’s joking?”

 

It had only been a few weeks but somehow Bittle was in line to make more baked goods than the year before, now that he was actually living near his precious kitchen, which was great for guests of the first kegster of the year, not so great when Bittle was blasting music at 7 in the morning on Jack’s rest day.

Something had to give.

He didn’t mean to barge in on Bittle in the shower, but he was tired and angry and wanted Bittle to shut the hell up. And he was sure that if Bittle was singing at a decent hour he’d probably find Bittle’s scratchy falsetto endearing but right now he kind of wanted to tear out his vocal chords.

After that things settle into a routine, one in which Bittle contained his musical outbursts until after 10AM.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack gets a phone call and Bitty is endearing.

The school year had barely started when Jack was awakened early, not by Bittle this time, but by a phone call from his father.

“It’s Vivienne’s first day of school. Thought you’d want to say hi.”

“Yeah.” Jack swallowed; he hadn’t even realized. “Can you put her on?”

“Jack?” Vivienne’s bright little voice was the next thing he heard.

“Ouais, Vivi?” Jack responded using her nickname. Jack didn’t pull it out often, only when he was feeling particularly sentimental.

“I’m going to school! Dominique is going to be there but lots of other kids I don’t know too. And I’m going to learn lots so I can be smart like you.” She rattled it off with a child’s excitement and Jack couldn’t help but smile.

“I bet you’ll make lots of friends with those new kids. And remember to listen to your teacher, if you don’t listen you won’t learn.”

“D’accord.” A pause he could hear his mother’s voice but not what she’s saying. “Maman says it’s time to go. Bye, Jack.”

“Bye, Vivienne.”

Jack spent the rest of his day in a funk. He glowered at the girl who asked for his autograph (though he was pleased when Ransom, Holster, and Shitty mimicked her to her face). He nearly made the new goalie cry at practice, which made Bittle mad at him.

After practice he stormed up to his room and pulled out the photo album. He pulled out the secret pages, spread them out on his bed, looked at how little she was. Flipped through the album to the picture of her on his shoulders at the pool grinning and happy in the way only children are.

“You okay, bro?” Shitty asked from the doorway to the bathroom. He should have known Shitty would check up on him, he hadn’t exactly been subtle about his mood.

“Shits?” Jack looked up at him and winced when his voice cracked and eyes stung.

Shitty was at his side in an instant and all those pictures were all over his bed and Shitty knew Jack was an omega but he didn’t know this.

Jack knew the moment Shitty saw them, the moment Shitty knew. It was in the catch of Shitty’s breath.

Jack spoke before Shitty could say anything. “Vivienne started,” he searched for the English word, “kindergarten today.”

“Oh, Jack.” Shitty sighed and sat on the bed gingerly so he didn’t get any photos and pulled Jack into his arms.

Jack resisted for a moment but then felt something inside of him break: a dam and all of this emotion came out. He didn’t even realize he was crying until he felt the moisture on his cheeks.

“I wish I was there. I wish. I’ve missed so much. I love her.” Jack took a big gulping breath. “But I don’t want to leave this. I love being here, I love hockey. I don’t want to stop. I miss her.”

For once, Shitty didn’t say anything, just let him get it out.

Eventually when Jack was sitting up and his eyes dry, though he still felt limp and damp inside, Shitty said “You do whatever you’ve got to do, Jacky-boy. I’ve got your back.”

“I’m going to play in the NHL.” Jack replied.

“Okay.” Shitty nodded like he believed him and that was the best thing he could have done.

“I should probably go apologize to Chow and to Bittle. I was out of line.” The idea of Bittle being mad at him made his stomach sink and not because he’d be cut off from sweets. He wanted to fix that.

The revelation that Jack hadn’t just abused drugs (well medication) in Juniors but had been too messed up to remember to take his suppressants and gone into heat and gotten knocked up and could have miscarried when he overdosed on those same meds and washed out of the draft but had a cute little girl didn’t seem to change how Shitty thought about him or behaved around him. Shitty if anything started acting _generally_ weird a week past, acting weirdly happy. Jack didn’t think much of it; Shitty was often weirdly happy, about as often as he was high.

Jack really should have known something was up when Shitty started a conversation with “Let’s watch the Mighty Ducks.”

Shitty loved the Mighty Ducks because of childhood nostalgia, but he also hated it because of how it portrayed gender and dynamic stereotypes. So, Jack should have known something was up. Instead he drank the beer Shitty gave him and was completely surprised when he ended up with a pillowcase over his head. 

When Jack realized he was being hazed a few things went through his head: that hazing is stupid, that he can’t be hazed he’s a senior this is ridiculous, that he really does belong here after all.

As a freshman he wasn’t hazed; the upperclassman didn’t want him to be one of them and it hurt. It made him wonder if they knew and were displeased at the thought of their sport being tainted by an omega.

So being hazed now? Made him feel warm and fuzzy in a way he’d rather not admit to. Instead he focused on the people around him. Bittle was being completely endearing. He couldn’t even be playfully sadistic and it made something in Jack’s chest flutter. He didn’t even care when Dex brought up Parse and Chowder drunkenly lay along his side. These were his people.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack gets another phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things: 
> 
> 1) This is a little early because I'm going out of town tomorrow and next weeks might be a little late.
> 
> 2) Just a reminder that the real names used in this are just cultural touch stones, they're not meant to be those people but just fit into the spots those people fit in our world.

Bittle bribed his way into Jack’s class. Bittle actually managed to bribe his way into Jack’s class: Women, Omegas, Food and US History was an upper level class that chronicled US History through the lens of Women’s and Omega’s issues (there’s overlap there) and food. Jack chirped Bittle about worming his way into class but Jack liked having Bittle next to him. It helped him ignore the omega’s looking at him longingly. Instead of avoiding their glances, he chirped Bittle about how it was the only class Bittle took notes in, a class of food and recipes. Jack’s mind, however, tended to wander when they weren’t talking omega history during the world wars, which Jack found fascinating. 

His Uncle Mario called after they won their fourth game of the year. “How are you, Jack?”

“I’m good. You?” Jack shifted in his seat, uncomfortable, Uncle Mario didn’t call without reason. 

“Good, better after hearing about your game. Keep up the good work.”

Jack coughed. “You’re keeping an eye on me, professionally?”

Uncle Mario laughed. “I can’t officially say anything about that kid. But if you keep it up I might be able to say something official in the spring.” Jack got dizzy with the rush of the news but immediately Uncle Mario was sobering. “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What’s up?” Jack’s heartbeat picked up but he tried to will it down. He’d gotten alright at pushing past his anxiety.

“Vivienne,” Uncle Mario started and Jack knows where he’s going but his heart is in his throat anyway, “She’s yours isn’t she?” It made sense that Uncle Mario had figured it out he was basically family after all.

“Yeah.” Jack forced the word out.

“And you’re an omega.”

“Yeah.” Jack’s voice was small it almost got lost in the space of all of his fears.

“Okay. I’m not going to tell anyone, Jack.” Uncle Mario said and Jack felt his airways clear. “But you should tell the management of your new team. They need to know, because if it comes out and they don’t already know and have a plan they will throw you under the bus.”

“Okay.” And Jack swallowed because it made sense but he was not sure he was ready to tell the people who will hold his future in their hands.

“And Jack?”

“Yeah?” Jack wasn’t sure he was ready for anymore.

“Stay on your suppressants.”

“Of course! I always--”

Uncle Mario cuts him off, “Jack.”

“That was an...accident.” And it hurt Jack in the center of his chest to say that, even though it’s true. “I’ve taken my suppressants everyday since she’s been born and I’m on birth control too, now, just in case.”

“Good.” Uncle Mario sighed. “I know this goes without saying but no drugs, Jack. Really.”

“I’m clean.” He said and felt like the roof was going to cave in because he was going to have to keep saying that the rest of his life.

“Would you tell me if you weren’t?” Uncle Mario’s voice pitched into what Jack read as alpha concerned for an omega. 

“I would.” Jack replied and believed it.

“Okay.” For a moment Jack thought Uncle Mario was ready to hang up, then he spoke again. “One last thing. Don’t tell them about Vivienne until you have to. They’ll be more likely to trust you if they think you haven’t messed up before.”

Jack knew what Uncle Mario was trying to say, he really did and Jack may have made mistakes when he was in Juniors but Vivienne was the best possible outcome and he doesn’t want her tied to that phrase, to all the things he feels horribly about. 

Uncle Mario must have heard that in his silence, because he was quickly apologizing. “Shit, Jack, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Guess you really are an omega, defensive about the kiddo and all.”

“Are you done?” Jack asked because he really just wanted the phone call to be over. 

“Yeah. Bye, Jack.”

“Bye, Uncle Mario.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a muffin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Woot!

Jack liked to get places early. It showed he was prepared, interested, and invested. He showed up to practice early, he showed up to Lardo’s art things early, he showed up to class early. Sometimes, he hated that about himself. He had gotten to his Women, Omegas, Food, and US History class early like always and one of the girls from class, the omega who’d been eyeing him since day one had cornered him at his desk. 

“I just think your insights into the plight of omegas at the end of World War Two were so inspired. I’ve never known an alpha who got it like you do.” She twirled a curl around her finger and leaned over his desk and Jack got the vague feeling that if he told her the truth she would kill him.

“Jack, sugar,” Jack blinked at the sudden appearance of Bittle at his side. “You left your muffin. Always chirpin’ about how little I eat. I don’t bake so the muffins’ll just sit there.”

“Your muffins never just sit there, they’re delicious.” Jack answered slowly, stunned and confused. Bittle stared at him. “I mean...I was in a hurry?”

“Well, I remembered.” And Bittle pushed a muffin at him. Jack took it but he wasn’t sure why.

“Oh, um, I, um,” the girl took a step back from Jack’s desk almost off the riser level. “I’m sorry.” And she fled. 

“What was that?” Jack asked in a hushed whisper once she was gone.

“Looked like that girl was going to eat you alive, thought I’d help you out.” Bittle shrugged with a smile, like not only was it okay that people thought he was an omega, it was okay if they thought he was an omega in a relationship with someone they thought was an alpha.

“Thanks.” Jack stared at the muffin awkwardly. “I had a protein shake for breakfast.” He pushed aside the feeling in his belly low and fluttery at the idea that someone thought he was _with_ Bittle.

“Split it with me.” Bittle shrugged like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Small chunks.”

Jack broke off a bite sized chunk and passed it to Bittle before breaking off a bite sized chunk of his own and wondered how they looked to the rest of the class.

Bittle beamed at him. “Hashtag: Got Your Back.”

After class they got Annie’s for coffee, like usual.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is an epikegster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double post! What-what!
> 
> I posted later than I planned and it was a shorty so you get this one too.
> 
> Warning for: Anxiety/Panic Attack, Manipulation, and kissing with "dubious consent".

Teams started contacting Jack’s agent. The Habs. The Falconers. The Blackhawks. Jack knew the Blackhawks wouldn’t work and told his agent that; though, he didn’t tell his agent why. The Falconers’ Manager George wanted to come see him play and talk. The Falconers were an expansion team but close by. Jack didn’t examine his desire to stay close to Samwell but he admitted to himself that it was there.

George was not who he was expecting. Instead of a balding, middle-aged white man he was faced with a 6’ 1” brown skinned woman (Black? Indian? He couldn’t tell and wouldn’t ask). “Hi, I’m Georgia, but everyone calls me George.” She introduced herself. She was an alpha and Jack was sure that that was how she survived the world of men’s hockey.

“So, I’m going to watch your game tonight but I already know you’re what the Falconer’s need.” She looked at him appraisingly. “You should come to Providence for practice to see how you fit in.” She said it like he’d already made up his mind, like it was a matter of when not if.

“I’ll have to think about that.” Jack drawled slowly, seemingly unphased, calm and collected like an alpha should be in negotiations.

“I’ll come by tomorrow and we can talk about it.” Jack did not gape at her insistence.

“The only free time I have is at 8AM and I’m going for a run.” Jack didn’t frown but he wanted to.

“I’ll run with you.”

“I keep a pretty harsh pace.” Jack raised an eyebrow at her. She used to be on the ice he knew, she used to be gooood, but she’d been in management how long?

“How about this?” She smiled like the cat that caught the canary. “If I can keep up with you , you come to practice. If not a I drop it.”

Jack knew he couldn’t say no without looking like an ass. “Okay.”

George laughed. “You’re so stubborn, it’s great. Most of the team just gives me what I want. It’ll be good to have you around. I like a challenge.” Jack wondered if this was what Lardo would be like after college and a sudden warmth for George bloomed in him. “Good game, Jack.” She wished him luck and was gone.

They won the game. Jack scored two-goals both assisted by Bittle. He knew George wasn’t the only one watching but he felt like he was glowing all over.

The next day George showed up as Jack was lacing his shoes.

“You ready?” She bounced on her toes and Jack wondered if the energy would last. “Or you going to back out? You forfeit, I win, You come to practice.”

“I don’t back out.” Jack snorted.

Surprisingly, George could run at Jack’s pace and talk too.

“Nice team, you’ve got. You play well together.”

Jack heard what she said and what she asked, “They’re good guys, we’re all pretty close.”

George smiled. “Yeah, who are you closest with? Who are your buds?”

“Shitty’s had my back since day 1.” At George’s look Jack added, “Knight. He never cared about who I was, even when everyone else did. He’s a great guy, keeps me from sticking my head up my ass.”

“Best friend?” She quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah.” He nodded, and it loosened the knot in his gut that was holding on to Parse’s best friend status even though that hadn’t been true for a long time.

“Who else?” She asked and he couldn’t tell if she just wanted to get to know him or if it was some kind of test.

“Bittle.” Jack surprised himself that Bittle came second but between checking practice and class, and coffee at Annie’s they spent a lot of time together. “The guys call him Bitty. He’s small but resilient; everyone being bigger than him isn’t going to stop him playing hockey. He’s not your typical bro,” read alpha, “but that doesn’t stop him, either. He cares a lot. His heart is in everything he does. And if you’re having a bad day you can guarantee one of Bittle’s baked goods will find it’s way to you. He’ll make you soup from scratch if you’re feeling sick. And when he’s drunk he uh...twerks to Beyonce.” Jack smiled, perhaps a little wistfully, and George watched him.

“He’s a fast little guy. Never once saw him get checked.”

“Fastest guy on the team. And he’s small, getting checked takes more out of him than some of us, so he doesn’t get checked.”

“Anyone else?” George queried.

“Ransom & Holster.” Jack snorted. “Sometimes they seem like a hive mind. They keep the levity up. Shitty is all dynamic theory and women’s rights, Ransom & Holster are trivia and wacky plans. Oluransi and Birkholtz.” Jack doesn’t mention Lardo. He feels like it would be too much like sucking up, to talk about how much he loves their manager. “All the guys are great, but Shitty, Bittle, Ransom & Holster, and I, we all live in the Haus, we’re in each other’s pockets. It works pretty well.”

George nodded but her eyes were focused on something up ahead. “Hey is that Bittle?”

Jack looked where she was looking. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“You want to run into him and pretend it’s an accident?” Georgia asked with a mischievous glint in her eye. 

A couple of different emotions flickered through Jack’s mind before he agreed and on their approach his stomach did a couple of flip flops, which Jack found annoying because he saw Bittle every day; he thought he’d be over this at the sight of him by now.

George was nice to Bittle. She respected his skill, didn’t condescend. It made something in Jack settle. A little of his worry that the whole of the NHL would be like Q went away.

“What do you think about Omega’s in the NHL?” Jack asked when they were far enough away that Bittle wouldn’t hear them even if he took out his earbuds.

“There are omegas with the ability to play and they should be allowed to play. The idea that child bearers need to be protected is stupid. Women and omegas have brains; we can analyze the risk for ourselves.” For a moment Jack thought about George’s skill and the woman’s no contact league and how little those women were paid. “Omega’s in the NHL or no, though, your friend is too small. Malkin would crush him, detriment to the team.”

Jack smiled. “Wasn’t asking about Bittle. Samwell is pretty liberal, I’ve gotten used to it.” He picked up the pace.

George looked surprised for a moment and then caught up effortlessly.

When they got back to the Haus, Bittle was already there and there was coffee and pie. Jack raised an eyebrow at Georgia as if to say, “See?”

George snorted, “Let’s schedule when you’re going to come meet my team, Zimmerman.”

At practice with the Falconers Jack focused on skating like he was one of them, like he fit with them and their style of play. About 20 minutes in the captain, Marshalls, skated over to him:

“Stop holding back. We’ve seen you can fit in, now we want to see what you can do. What makes you so special?” And Jack wasn’t sure if he was being genuine or if it was a jab.

Still, he took the advice to heart. He blew past Irmin in a skirmish, stole the puck and scored on Maxon, all in one go. After, Jack could tell Maxon was grinning behind his mask and Irmin skated over to hook an arm around his neck and turned him toward management.

“You better get this kid on lock. He’s got the fire.” He shouted. 

The rest of practice Jack did his best to let them know that like in that movie Holster had made him watch “Fire is catching.” Which he did. He got the guys skating faster, passing to test the limits of their dexterity, all in all playing harder.

Back at school finals were approaching and Ransom & Holster had started preparing for the epikegster. Jack wasn’t worried about any of his finals except for Women, Omegas, Food, and US History. They were expected to bake and Jack knew that omega or not baking was beyond him. After seeing Jack’s face Bittle patted his hand, in a perfunctory but soothing way.

“Nothing bad will be baked in my kitchen.” And Jack knew that everything would be okay.

Jack made hardtack for his project, simple, with a history of use in war that he could engross himself in for the written portion. It turned out well, though he cared less about his hard tack and more about the way Bittle “checked” him, bumping him with familiarity as they moved around each other in the kitchen, or the playful way he tossed flour in his face.

Jack wasn’t completely sure but he was pretty sure there was a chance Bittle liked him as much as he liked Bittle. There was a problem though, if Bittle was like everyone else, Bittle thought Jack was an alpha.

Bittle disappeared after their baked goods were done and Jack had some thinking of his own to do. So he went to Lardo’s studio and watched her paint. He just sat there and didn’t say anything. She didn’t either. It was one of the things he liked about her: he didn’t have to be anything when it was just the two of them. He hoped she felt the same way. Watching Lardo paint and seeing how the gold she was using was the same color as Bittle’s hair in the fall sunlight made him realize he was hopeless at this point and should just take it in stride. 

He “hmmm”’d.

Lardo raised an eyebrow but didn’t look away from her painting. “Good for you.”

At Epikegster Jack made a beeline for Bittle. He didn’t usually drink at the these things (too much like Juniors, too much like the feel of Parse’s fingers as he passed him drink after drink), but he felt like a little liquid courage was in store. Or rather a lot of liquid courage. 

He was feeling good and warm along his side where he was pressed against Bittle, chirping him about his phone. Jack wished there was a way to bathe in Bittle’s laugh; he’d go out every day feeling armored and invincible.

Jack didn’t even look up when the commotion happened, not until a shadow dropped over their spot of wall and a familiar drawl was saying “Did’ya miss me?”

It took .2 seconds for Jack’s heart to jump into his throat. He could hide it though because one of the frogs (Jack was too stunned to tell which) was asking for Parse’s autograph and suddenly there was a line and Jack was thinking of hiding in his room but then he was being smiled at bright, blinding, and knowing. It dropped Jack’s heart from his throat to his stomach and Jack knew he wasn’t leaving Kenny behind anytime soon.

The line of people was a blur and soon Kenny’s hand was on his arm and Kenny was smiling in that blinding center of the universe way. “Let’s talk.”

They went up to Jack’s room and Jack stubbed his toe on the way.

“I thought you didn’t drink anymore.”

“Only sometimes.” Jack shrugged, looser limbed than normal.

“Lucky me.” Kenny snorted and Jack was not sure what that meant.

As soon as the door to his room was closed Kenny was on him, hand on his cheek, hand on his waist pulling him in and down and close and part of Jack knew he shouldn’t do this, but the rest of him thought Kenny smelled like home and a shared past. They ended up on Jack’s bed, Kenny’s hands moved from Jack’s hair to slide under Jack’s shirt. It was an almost torturous amount of flesh on flesh because Kenny’s hands weren’t everywhere like Jack wanted them. The picture on the bedside table caught his eye as he was moving to take off his shirt.

A picture of Vivienne with the paper mache heart she made on the first day of kindergarten. Jack choked as ice gripped his heart.

“Stop. Kenny. Stop.” Jack took Kenny’s hands off his torso and pushed him up. He tried his best not to look as frantic as he felt, but he wasn’t sure he succeeded. His pulse was loud in his ears, but that didn’t matter, he just needed Kenny out of his room.

Kenny blinked at him confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Why are you here?” Jack needed Kenny out of his room and away from Vivienne’s pictures. He didn’t want Kenny anywhere near his little girl.

“You should come to Vegas, sign with The Aces.”

Jack stared at Kenny, shocked out of his blind panic. “I haven’t had an offer.”

“Consider this an offer.” Jack was silent. It sounded stupid. Kenny wasn’t management. “I’ll tell the GMs you’re on board and they can free up the cap space. Then you can really show them what an omega can do. We’ll be the only bonded pair in the NHL. You’ll be with me and you’ll be done with this shitty team--”

“Get out.” Jack’s stomach curdled and he didn’t know what to say, so many of the things Kenny said were wrong. And Jack wanted to listen and he wanted to love him, but how could he love someone that he didn’t want around the thing in the world that was most precious to him. Jack couldn’t deny that Kenny loved fiercely but with his hands and his smirk and his eyes he broke the things he loved so often and never seemed to care or notice.

“Jack.” Kenny smiled apologetically but wry like Jack was being stupid, silly, immature and Kenny knew best. It reminded Jack of everything that was wrong with Juniors: knowing Kenny with alcohol on his breath.

“You can’t--you don’t come to my fucking school unannounced!” Jack blew up.

“Because you shut me out!” Kenny interjected.

“And corner me in my room,” Jack could feel a tremor starting where he thought his heart might be. Shouldn’t he have stopped feeling like he was seventeen seven years ago? 

“I’m trying to help.” Kenny tried to cut him off again but Jack wasn’t having it.

“And expect me to do whatever you want.” And that was the crux of it wasn’t it? He refused to be as malleable as he used to be. He refused to be seventeen again. He refused to be broken hearted, scared, and alone in a bathroom with a positive pregnancy test and a medicine cabinet full of pills ever again.

“FUCK--JACK!” Kenny shouted, frustrated and fed up, forcing Jack to give him his attention. “What do you want me to say? That I miss you? I miss you, ok?” Kenny got quiet, almost like he was ashamed. “I miss you.”

For once Jack couldn’t make himself care. He was so tired. “You always say that and I don’t care anymore. I’m not going to The Aces and I’m not going to bond with you.” 

“Well, shit, okay,” Kenny started in that cold way he got sometimes. “You know what Zimmerman? You think you’re too fucked up to care about? That you’re not good enough. That everyone will leave when they learn you’re not an alpha like they thought but just a broken omega? Well, I know and I am the one who still cares. You’re scared everyone else is going to find out you’re worthless, right? Oh don’t worry, just give it a few seasons, Jack. Trust me.”

The blood started to rush again, loud in his ears and the cousin of his early heartfelt tremors took up residence in chest an earthquake that was cracking him open over and over again from the inside out. He could barely get sound out past the vibrations that were crumbling the earth inside him. “Get out.”

“Fine, shut me out again.” Kenny snapped.

“And stay...stay away from my team.” Jack managed.

“Why? Afraid I’ll tell them something?” His smile was all predator’s gleam and Jack felt his stomach lurch, sure he was going to throw up.

“Leave, Parse.” Jack growled the words out like an alpha might, with his last bit of resolve. He almost pushed Parse out the door when Parse opened it, but Bittle was right there, picking up his dropped key. As soon as Parse was out Jack slammed the door in his face.

“Good luck with the Falconers,” He could hear Parse say through the door. “I’m sure that’ll make your dad proud.”

Jack couldn’t hold it off anymore then, the panic attack that had been growing since Parse had started on his tirade. He couldn’t breathe and his hands were shaking and he could hear the blood in his ears. He thought about opening the door, about Bittle on the other side, before realizing that Bittle wouldn’t want an omega who was more alpha than he was. That’s when the tears started.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is winter break and cookies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Reminder that all real names used in this aren't meant to be depictions of the actual people but placeholders for where those people fit in our cultural consciousness.
> 
> 2) It's still Tuesday here.

Jack was woken in the morning by Shitty. He ached everywhere, probably because he fell asleep crying on the floor.

“Jack, wake-up Jack. Bitty made pancakes.” Shitty brushed Jack’s fringe from his forehead in an effort to be gentle, prompted by the puffy bags under Jack’s eyes. When Jack finally squinted up at him, Shitty could see they were a scratchy sort of red. “Rough night?”

“Got in a fight with Parse.” Jack sat up and looked at his hands.

“Is Parse…” Shitty let the question trail off.

“Vivienne’s...?” Jack clarified the question and Shitty nodded. “Yeah he is, but he doesn’t know.”

Shitty snorted derisively. “I think that’s a good thing, if he makes you feel like this.”

Jack nearly smiled. 

“Do you want to come down and eat?” Jack frowned, Bittle had to have overheard something; did he hear Parse call him an omega? Did he understand? Jack’s stomach turned.

“Can you bring me something?” At the very least, Bittle knew the fight had been rough and Jack wasn’t ready for Bittle’s gentle caring, especially when he knew he couldn’t have it for himself.

Jack didn’t venture out of his room until late afternoon. When he was downstairs Dex was on the couch moaning piteously into a cushion that probably shouldn’t have been that close to his mouth.

“You still hung over, Dex?” Jack asked. “How much did you drink?” Jack nearly chirped him about not being able to hold his liquor but he wasn’t in the mood.

Across the room Nursey crowed laughter. Dex managed to raise his middle finger in retaliation.

“He’s not hung over.” Nursey explained. “He has the flu. It’s going around. Three people from intro to poetry came to the final looking like hell warmed over. One missed it all together. But Dex caught it off some omega at the party. Feel his head.”

Jack pressed the back of his hand to Dex’s temple. Dex was burning up.

“She was just so hot!” Dex moaned.

“I’m sure she was burning up.” Jack replied dryly; he couldn’t help himself. Nursey cackled.

“And she was a really good kisser.” Dex sighed.

Bittle came out of the kitchen clutching a bowl of soup before anyone could reply. Jack froze. “I hope you can keep it down,” Bittle came forward and Jack fled into the kitchen. In the kitchen, Jack could hear Bittle trying to goad Nursey into living up to his name and keep an eye on Dex. Jack started making a sandwich while Bittle fussed. Even though he didn’t want to be around Bittle, hearing Bittle’s chatter was soothing—if you could call it that, Jack still felt like there were storm clouds over his head.

Bittle came back in the kitchen as Jack finished making a sandwich. “Jack?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Jack glowered at the floor and took his sandwich to his room.

Jack spent the next day avoiding Bittle and the day after that it was back to Montreal. Jack got there still in his post-Parse funk. He hugged his mother but his greetings were stilted. He did manage a smile for Vivienne and swung her up into his arms, carried her all the way to the car while she chattered about her friend starting horseback riding lessons and if her friend was good her parents were going to buy her a horse and she’d let Vivienne ride it. Jack was amazed at her, at the ease with which she made friends. No one cared about Jack until he was good at hockey, people cared about Vivienne just because.

When they got home, Jack noticed the twinges of a headache but continued to put on a bright face for Vivienne even though he was overtired from travel. They played with Goldieblox in front of the tv until it was time for Vivienne to go to bed.

With Vivienne asleep, Jack settled into the armchair to watch tv with his parents. A scowl settled on his face at once.

“Jack, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” His mother asked from the couch.

“Nothing, Maman.” Jack sighed, embarrassed that he had worried her. He tried to put on a neutral face but just looked pained.

“Jack?” His father queried.

“I’m going to call it a night.” Jack went up to his room but instead of unpacking like normal he just flopped on his bed and was out in moments.

Jack woke late the next morning and immediately dashed to the bathroom to throw up. His head was pounding, he was hot, and he ached but he was a hockey player: a little flu couldn’t stop him. So he went to his room and started to unpack. Under his stack of shirts, he found a tupperware full of cookies, obviously from Bittle. He felt a spike of anxiety followed by a rush of gratitude and the knowledge that no matter what Bittle heard he was not too much of a freak of nature for his friendship.

Jack had the urge to hoard the cookies all to himself but he knew that wouldn’t work out so he decided to take them down to the kitchen to share.

After Jack deposited the cookies in the kitchen, he sent Bittle a thank you text. Then he ran to the first floor bathroom because it was time to throw up again. 

“Are you alright?” His dad asked from the couch as Jack came out of the restroom. Jack would have jumped if he wasn’t so achey.

“I’m fine.” Jack shrugged and went back to the kitchen. He was hungry, he needed some toast or something that would settle his stomach. Jack rummaged for a bit and then eyed the cookies. Cookies were kind of like toast; they were both made out of flour. Besides, if he was going to keep throwing up he might as well eat something that wouldn’t be completely awful on the way back up. He grabbed two cookies and went out to sit on the couch with his dad.

His dad stared at him for a moment. “Where’d the cookies come from?”

“Bittle made them for me.” Jack couldn’t help but smile.

“An omega made you cookies?” Bad Bob looked disappointed. “You can’t lead him on like that.”

Jack blamed the flu fog he was in for what came next. “Bittle’s an alpha, but it’s a secret.”

Bad Bob stared at Jack again this time more appraising. When he asked his question he was quiet and slow like he was scared of startling a wild animal. “Jack, are you pregnant?”

“What?” Jack sputtered. “Why would you ask that? I’m not. Why would I do that? Hockey. NHL. That’s not happening.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been moody. And now you’re throwing up, but you’re well enough to eat cookies. An alpha baked you those cookies.”

Jack frowned. “Bittle is like me. He’s not a sterotype.” Jack shrugged. “He’s small, he loves baking, he’s a nurturer.” Jack sighed. “He made me cookies because Parse showed up and we got in a fight. Which is why I’m moody.”

“Parson showed up?” Bob all but growled. “That…” He shook his head.

“He wanted me to join the Aces so we could be together or something. Got mad when I said no.” Jack scowled at his hands. He still had a cookie left but he wasn’t sure he could eat it now. Like Parse had the right to get mad at Jack for rejecting him, when Parse had been the one to break up with Jack in the first place and only weeks after Jack’s heat. Parse hadn’t even bothered to ask about it. Jack felt his eyes sting, but he didn’t want to cry in front of his father.

“You did good kid.” Bob looked like he wanted to pat Jack on the back or squeeze his hand but didn’t know the way past Jack’s invisible armor. “He doesn’t deserve you, either of you.” 

Jack tried to sigh but it came out more of a sniffle.

Bob let Jack keep his dignity and changed the subject. “And the throwing up?”

“I have the flu.” Jack inclined his head so his dad could touch his forehead.

“Go to your room.” Was Bob’s immediate reaction.

“What?”

“You’re burning up; you need to lay down.” Bob glowered in full caring parent mode.

“I’m fine. In the NHL I’ll be expected to play when I’m sick.” Jack countered.

“This isn’t the NHL, this is home.” Bob pulled out his big guns. “Do you want to get Vivienne sick.” Bob did not tell him that Alicia had already taken Vivienne out for a “Girl’s day” because they thought Jack could use a day to relax. If Jack wasn’t sick he would have already realized that Vivienne hadn’t run to him yet looking for a playmate.

“No, I don’t.” Bittle might have said that Jack was pouting as he tromped upstairs to bed.

 

Jack was feeling moderately better when he got a phone call from an unrecognized number. Jack answered it anyway, he was getting more used to numbers he didn’t recognize these days.

“Don’t hang up.” It was Parse and he sounded different than usual less put together, more worn, so Jack stayed on the line. “I’m sorry. I was out of line. I shouldn’t talk when I’ve been drinking, especially not to you.” Jack remembered that sometimes the only way to tell that Parse had been drinking was what came out of his mouth. “I’m not blaming the alcohol, what I said was my fault and I’m taking responsibility for that and I’m sorry.” The words rushed out of Parse’s mouth at a tumble and Jack wasn’t sure what to think. “I shouldn’t have come to your school without warning and I should have respected your decisions. Me missing you isn’t.” Parse took a long shallow breath. “It isn’t an excuse to hurt you. I’ve stopped. Drinking. It’s hell, messing with my game, but I’m gonna stick with it. I’ve got a sponsor, front office behind me, and everything. I’m sorry, Zimms, for everything.” There was a hitch in Parse’s voice, he sounded like he was going to cry.

Jack was silent. He felt dizzy. Parse had never apologized before, ever.

“Thank you.” Jack managed and hung up before Parse could say anything else. Jack tried to go back to dozing but couldn’t quite manage it. Instead he ended up texting Shitty, the two of them commiserating about the horrors of the flu as Shitty too had come down with what was going around.

Once he was feeling better Jack spent a lot of his vacation on the ice, at home. Not all of it was training, a lot of it was playing games with his dad and Vivienne. The sort of thing the documentary people, who were coming in January would want to see when they filmed “home” footage for the doc on Bad Bob Zimmerman, but this wasn’t staged: it was just them having fun.

Christmas came faster than Jack expected and the packages he bought online for family and friends barely arrived in time to pack up the van to head to the Gretzky’s. Jack’s paternal grandparents were dead and his maternal grandparents were holidaying in the French Riviera, so the Gretzky’s invited them over. Honestly, Jack would rather stay home. Wayne was great and his mother was friends with Janet, but Jack just didn’t want to have to socialize with the Gretzky’s kids. They were nice. Jack knew them his whole life, he just didn’t want to have to socialize period.

Wayne’s oldest son Scott, brought his son Elyan, 4, so there was someone close-ish to Vivienne’s age there. But after they’re introduced Vivienne tugged on Jack’s hand and whispered in that loud way children have, “But he’s a baby! He hasn’t even started school yet!” But she was eyeing Elyan’s building set that Scott brought with them, so it wasn’t much to send the two off playing. As soon as they were gone Scott hissed about how hard it was to get Elyan from his bastard of an alpha father for the holiday, which was stupid because the prick only wanted him on holidays anyway. Jack tried to imagine what a custody battle with Parse would be like but he couldn’t for multiple reasons, not the least of which was that he didn’t really have custody of Vivienne in the first place, his parents did. 

Dinner was uneventful, they didn’t talk about hockey, which was a surprise. Jack’s dad probably asked Wayne not to bring it up. Daniel, Wayne’s youngest was 21 and graduating from University of Toronto with a degree in Canadian Studies and they spent a lot of time talking about Canada’s history during the World Wars and how they were pushed out of the wolf packs. Jack hadn’t seen Daniel in a while, but he was pretty sure that if things were different they would be friends. They would be friends if Jack wasn’t pretending to be an alpha and had a friend group made up of smart, worldly omegas, who thought about global politics and history and what nationalism and patriotism did mean and could mean. He’d never thought about that before, about what he might be missing masquerading as an alpha. Daniel wasn’t the stereotype of an omega that Jack had gotten used to comparing himself to in his head. He was an academic, but still athletic he could skate and ski and probably could have played hockey if he put time into bulking up and wasn’t an omega. Jack thought about what it would have been like if he hadn’t hidden for hockey’s sake, if he wasn’t looked at like a fox in the hen house when near a group of omegas. He and Daniel could have been real friends. Puberty probably wouldn’t have been as lonely.

After dinner, Vivienne tugged Jack over to show him the towers she and Elyan had built before dinner and Daniel tagged along. There were a multitude of them, tall and sprawling acrossing the den. It looked like an alien city and for a moment Jack had a flash of Vivienne as a city planner. But Elyan was four and no longer in the building mood. He ran through the city arms out stretched, gleeful at the destruction, kicking the buildings that didn’t come down just the way he liked. 

Vivienne’s eyes instantly started to well. 

And Jack was there. Before Vivienne could truly start to cry Jack flopped down on his stomach, brushing most of the pieces aside first. He ignored the sharp stabs from the pieces he didn’t manage to get. “Come on, Vivi, let’s build a city, a bigger, better city.” He smiled up her already grabbing pieces. “Right, Daniel?” He tugged Daniel down, who caught on quickly and started adding pieces to Jack’s tower.

“We’ll build the best city.” Daniel grinned.

Vivi looked between the two of them and nodded. “Elyan will never make a city as awesome as ours.” She kneeled next to Jack.

“That’s the spirit.” Jack beamed at her. 

Later, after Vivienne had fallen asleep on the floor next their city and Jack had scooped her up to lay her out on the couch in the den. Daniel looked at Jack half-amazed, “You’re really good with her.”

“Thanks?” Jack sat on the floor, next to Daniel, looking at their city.

“No, I mean it, it’s a wonder some omega hasn’t scooped you up yet.” Daniel waggled his eyebrows at him to make the question less serious.

“I have a well publicized drug problem.” Jack drawled, a statement of fact. It didn’t come out as awkward as he thought it would; talking with Daniel was comfortable.

Daniel snorted. “I don’t know what you were on, but whatever it was you’ve been clean for ages.”

“People think-” Jack started and Daniel scoffed.

“You’re smart, you’re athletic, you’re good with kids, and,” Daniel reached out to brush a lock of Jack’s hair behind his ear, “you’re pretty handsome.”

Jack leaned away from Daniel’s touch. “I’m sorry.” He said to Daniel’s hurt frown. “I just. I don’t date omegas. I don’t like to lead anyone on.” Jack stared at his hands. It wasn’t really a lie, he just omitted the important part, that he wasn’t an alpha either.

Daniel’s hand covered his “oh” of shock. 

“Don’t tell anyone, okay.” Jack requested.

Daniel nodded quickly. “Of course not. But those rumors about you and Parse?”

Jack snorted, and for the first time since the Epikegster his heart didn’t stop at the mention of Parse’s name. “No comment.”

Daniel laughed. “That’s fair. Friends? It’s stupid that we haven’t stayed in touch.”

“Friends.” Jack nodded. He’d never been friends with an omega before, not a real one, not really friends. “We should skype.”

When they got back home, it was a frenzy of cleaning. They only stopped when Alicia was preparing for the New Year’s Eve party she and Bob were going to . Technically, they had people to clean but Alicia wanted everything to be spotless when the documentary people got in. She picked out nice outfits for Vivienne days in advance no matter that she’d have them scuffed and dirty the first hour after she put them on. Vivienne played hard. The other part of preparation was perfecting their story. The documentary might be about Bad Bob but they knew they were going to ask questions about the icon’s drug-addicted prodigy of a son.

When the crew showed up, Jack was drawing with Vivienne, a large ream of paper spread out across the living room floor while Bad Bob read in the arm chair. Jack picked art because Vivienne had been restless and crayons were relatively clean, but somehow a streak of color had appeared across her dress.

The crew had their cameras up and rolling as soon Alicia has escorted them inside and they saw the scene.

“Just act natural.” The director instructed as Jack and Vivienne both looked up to stare. Jack turned away but Vivienne stayed focused on the camera.

“What ya got there, Vivienne?” Bad Bob looked over the top of his book at the fuzzy looking thing with long teeth that Vivienne has scribbled.

“It’s a monster.”

“Oh?” Bob raised an eyebrow and Jack didn’t laugh because Vivienne had narrated the creation of her monster to him and Jack wasn’t about to ruin his chance to see his father’s reaction.

“Oui, it eats homework and boys who hog the swings.”

A chuckle did escape from Jack at that point. He’d heard stories about Damien, a boy who swings all recess, but there were five other swings and Vivienne always got her turn. She was just annoyed. Jack guessed it was the principle of the thing.

“What’s so bad about homework; you’re in maternalle?” Jack asked her.

“It’s stupid. I already know what it is. I’m not stupid.” She rolled her eyes.

Jack actually laughed. He loved that Vivienne was bright and inquisitive. “Vivi, do your homework so you can show your teacher how smart you are.”

“Duh.” She sighed.

Bob laughed. “Can’t wait till she’s a teenager.”

Jack almost died at the thought. 

The crew followed Bob when he left to go do something, Jack wasn’t entirely sure what. They stayed away until diner, which was uneventful.

The next day they pulled Jack aside for an interview, it’s time to give soundbites. 

“What was it like having Bad Bob as a parent?”

“I didn’t know he was ‘Bad Bob’ at first he was just Papa.” Jack smiled charmingly. “I missed him when he was gone but I didn’t really get it until I was in school and then it was inspiring. My dad had accomplished so much and I wanted to do that too. I still do. It didn’t get weird until I was in Juniors, people could be kind of fawning. I could get away with a lot of things the other guys on my team couldn’t, too.”

“Okay, Jack everyone knows about what happened before you were supposed to go to the draft can you explain in your words what happened?”

“I had a problem and it got out of control.”

“Do you have anything to say about that?”

“Don’t do drugs. I don’t want to sound like a PSA but that’s the important part isn’t it?”

“You went to rehab?”

“It was good for me. I’m clean. I’m playing hockey again. I still get to live my dreams.”

“You were in rehab when your mom found out she was pregnant. How’d you feel?”

“I was worried, because omegas don’t usually have kids at her age. Everyone says it’s dangerous and I wanted them to be okay. But I was excited to have a sibling. I knew I’d have to shape up. Be a role model.”

“And when you got out of rehab?”

“Maman, was on bed rest and I wasn’t quite ready to face the world so I stayed home, took care of Maman.”

“Where was your dad?”

“Papa was home but he had obligations. Places he had to be. No one needed me anywhere. So I got to be here.”

“I’ve noticed you and Vivienne are close. What was it like when she was born?”

“She was so small. I didn’t know people came that small. I mean I knew but I didn’t know. I helped mom with her a lot. No one could get Vivienne to stop crying faster than me.”

“You sound proud of that.”

“I’m the best big brother.” Jack smiled with his heart in his throat.

The cameras hovered around the next day as Bob took Vivienne to her dance class and Bob and Jack staged a conversation about Jack’s NHL prospects.

In the afternoon they went to the rink, Bob and Jack and Vivienne, to see the three of them on the ice. They shot pucks at an empty net. Bob and Jack slapped in puck after puck but they still cheered every time one of Vivienne’s went in. It was less than Jack and Bob were getting but it was still better than most kids her age, not that that mattered to Bob or Jack.

They did a race around the rink and Bob and Jack didn’t have to look at each other to decide to let Vivienne win. But after she did Jack surged forward to scoop her up, tickling her sides, careful of the skates on the ends of her wriggling legs. He spun with her in his arms, the two of them laughing and giggling as Bob watched indulgently.

The crew was there for the rest of the week but they didn’t need anything else from Jack or Vivienne specifically, so it was easier and when the crew left, Jack too, was leaving for school.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is the Better Bitty Booty Bureau.

Jack returned to the Haus to see Ransom and Bittle squatting in tandem. Ransom was wearing an 80s sweatband in hot pink and Bittle was wearing the tiny running shorts he moved in in. The material clung just so that every time Bittle did a squat the material spread tight and shiny over the globes of his ass.

Jack managed to say something encouraging about conditioning before hightailing it to his room, where he had to stop and catch his breath for reasons that had nothing to do with running. Jack knew about the Better Booty Bureau, but G-d help him if Bittle’s booty got any better.

The next day it was time to pick classes and Jack decided to round out his last semester with photography. Something less writing intensive, while he was working on his thesis (about the impact of WWII on omega roles in North America). Jack liked art; he liked watching Lardo work—how she created with her own two hands, but Jack never wanted to create for himself: he’d rather capture what art he saw everyday and show it to the world. It’s telling that the first thing he photographed with his new camera was Bittle dancing in the kitchen wearing an oven mitt, the soft light filtering through the curtains turning his curls into a halo of gold. 

“Oh no! Don’t!” Bittle had laughed when he heard the shutter click for the second time. “I’m a mess.”

Jack just smiled, but he wanted to tell Bittle how good he looked. He tried to sneak out before Bittle could turn things serious and ask about what happened with Parse before break but Bittle met him with a look.

“Sit, sugar, I’m about to take these tarts out of the oven and I need a guinea pig. The rest of the boys will eat anything so it has to be you.”

Jack sat. They didn’t talk about Parse but they do listen to Beyonce, and if a few of her songs are about independence and not needing that alpha, well who was Jack to judge Bittle’s musical taste. Jack did wonder about Beyonce about how powerful she was, her money, her presence; how it was allowed. She was strong, but she was also largely decorative with the clothes and the voice and the expensive champagne. Plus, she was bonded to an alpha, so controlled; though, people made jokes about how that was working out for her alpha. And she was a mother. Jack hadn’t known all of that before he met Bittle. Never really paid attention to the woman and why she made people angry (or happy), why she drew such crowds. Now Jack wondered what it was like to be her. Did her alpha make all the decisions for her like some claimed? Or was she just as independent as she sang?

Jack watched Bittle clean up the kitchen, humming and swaying and talking. He couldn’t see Bittle being a domineering alpha. He bet Bittle would have no problem with his omega being independent at all, if he liked omegas. Ransom and Holster had set him up on a few dates with alphas when he’d first moved into the Haus and Bittle had gone with little fuss, though he’d never dated any of them more than once. Did Bittle like other alphas? Or could he possibly be interested in omegas?

That night in his room Jack opened his computer and got a Skype call from Daniel. Who took one look at Jack and said “Spill.” before even saying hello.

“Spill what? I’ve been at school a week.” Jack evaded.

“And something’s happened in that week that you need to talk about.” Daniel leveled him a look and Jack wondered if maybe it would be good to talk about this with someone who wasn’t Shitty, someone who could understand on a level Shitty couldn’t.

“Well, there’s a guy.” Jack started.

“An alpha guy?” Daniel grinned.

Jack nodded, “But he’s not like other alphas, he’s sweet. I thought he was an omega at first, made me wonder if I was who I thought I was.”

Daniel nodded somberly. “And you don’t know if he dates other alphas.”

Jack frowned. He liked Daniel. He'd known Daniel almost his whole life. He knew that he probably shouldn't tell Daniel, even though his gut was to trust him, but since connecting with Daniel over the holidays Jack had become aware of a loneliness he hadn't realized he harbored. “I know he’s gone on dates with alphas before. That’s the problem. If he likes alphas I don’t know if he’ll like me.” Jack looked at his hands. He didn't regret telling him, but he was still scared of Daniel's reaction.

Daniel stared. “But you...wait. You’re an,” Daniel looked around his dorm room like his roommate was going to pop out from under the bed, before mouthing “Omega.”

“Of complications I thought of that was not it.” Daniel shook his head and Jack laughed at Daniel’s candidness. “Honestly, I’ve known you my entire life. Really?”

“Really.” Jack smiled slightly.

“Well, if everyone thinks you’re an alpha and they think he’s an omega maybe you should just flirt?” Daniel wondered. “No one would think it’s suspicious. And you can see how he reacts.”

Jack blanched. “I don’t know how.”

Daniel shrugged. “Try, someone willing to crash and burn for you can be pretty cute.”

That did not make Jack feel better.

Daniel smiled encouragingly, “If you don’t try, you’ll never have a shot.”

Jack rolled his eyes and asked Daniel how his thesis was going.

“I hate conclusions and I hate editing and I keep getting distracted by trying to decide what I’m actually going to do with this major when I graduate. I mean I know I want to be the first omega to be prime minister but how to get there.” Jack laughed, he had no ideas about current politics. It was hard to keep abreast of what was going on when hockey was his whole world. Still, it was fun to listen to Daniel fill him in, with his running commentary on who was in and who was out and what they were doing and why it was stupid. Not only did he like Daniel's wit, but Daniel explained things in a way that made it easy for Jack to connect the current politics to Canada's history and he didn't mind talking about that either.

 

*

 

Jack was with Lardo. Lardo was high. They watched the sunset over the pond where the team would play shinny in the morning. They were bundled up and had settled into the quiet of the snow. Lardo had her sketchpad and Jack his camera but sometimes it was necessary to look without documenting and just process the world around you. The amber rose of the sky made Jack feel like everything was going to be okay. His feelings for Bittle, yes, but also his meeting with the Falconers the next week to talk contracts and signing. He was infinitely glad Lardo brought him here and that she was the warm quiet presence at his side. Lardo smirked at him, but it was bright, positive, and knowing. Some things didn’t need words.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack has a contract meeting with the Falconers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only pretend to know things about Hockey.
> 
> Let's say that this is just the way things work with Hockey in this world.

Jack knew he had two people on his side in the Falconer’s meeting. His agent Pat and Georgia. They both thought (they both knew) he earned his right to play. Pat in particular thought it was a shame whenever Jack was not on the ice.

“Let’s cut to the chase.” The Falconer’s lawyer a Mr. Richardson said after they all sat down. The man was younger than Jack had expected, and he steepled his fingers like he had played at being a super villain as a child. “We want you on the team. We want to offer you a two year contract, 850,000 a year, plus signing bonus.” 

Jack tried not to express his shock. That was first round draft pick money. 

“Of course, we’ll want you to undergo drug testing regularly, in addition to the regular stipulations.”

Pat cleared his throat politely. “There is something Jack needs to tell you, before we go any further. Gentleman, Ma’am.” Jack knew it was coming but he still almost choked on his heart.

He couldn’t speak so instead Jack nodded, decorum lost to nerves. When he’d gotten some control of his voice box he told them, barely audible. “I just thought you should know that I’m an omega. I don’t want it to be a problem later on.”

“You mean like one of those trans-dynamic types?” Coach Wesley squinted at him. Inwardly, Jack cringed he wanted them to accept it and move on. He didn’t want to be asked question after question. He just wanted to know what they would decide.

“No.” Jack shook his head. “I’m an omega. Currently on suppressants but I had my first heat at 12. I’ve been hiding ever since, because I want to play hockey.” He swallowed and resisted the urge to rub at the tightness in his chest.

“It was a gamble you took telling us.” Georgia said pointedly. “Thank you.” Jack managed to take a deep breath because of her support and managed to smile tightly at her.

“Are you on any performance enhancing drugs, steroids?” Another front office face asked and Jack found himself choking on a completely different emotion.  
“What?” Jack glowered. “No!”

“You’re just so big.” Coach Wesley shrugged apologetically.

“And there have never been any smaller alphas?” Jack rolled his eyes. “If all omegas were the simpering tiny things you see on TV we would all die in childbirth, especially if you’re talking period pieces, crisse.” The more he paid attention to things that weren’t hockey, to himself and to his needs, the less he tried to ignore omega things, the more he knew this was true.

The coach had the grace to look abashed. Georgia flashed Jack a quick smile.

The Falconers’ staff looked at one another and Georgia said, “Well, it’s not like we don’t know that he can take a hit.” The men nodded.

“We definitely still want you on the team, son,” Cavan Ramsey, the owner said finally, “but we’re going to have to draw up a new contract with this new information in mind. We’ll call you to set up a new meeting.”

Jack darted a worried look at Pat who smiled and nodded. “Thank you.” He nudged Jack.

“Thank you.”

 

Jack didn’t even make it to his room when he got back to the Haus. He ended up collapsing on the couch and fuming at his hands.

After a minute, Bittle came out of the kitchen with a newspaper. He spread the newspaper out on the couch and gingerly sat on the safe space he made. He didn’t say anything. Jack waited but Bittle still didn’t say anything, he just stayed a warm, reassuring, presence at Jack’s side.

“How much of what Parse and I said did you hear at epikegster?” Jack asked finally.

“Enough to know that you and I are different but pretty alike.” Bitty smiled at him, kindly, like they were in this together, and when it came down to it they sort of were, both defying societal expectations, moving down their own path one day at a time.

“I told the Falconers.”

Bittle couldn’t stop his hand from going to his mouth in a silent “oh”.

“They still want me on the team,” Jack shrugged. “They just have to rewrite my contract.” He glared at his hands again.

“They probably do have to, Jack.” Jack looked up at Bittle surprised. “Legally, to make sure they don’t get in trouble if people find out.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.” Jack felt like he should have, but he wasn’t used to people thinking of him that way.

“I think you could do with a brownie.” Bittle looked at him, fond, and was off a second later. He returned with two brownies, on plates, and once again he perched on the newspaper.

There was space between them, Jack wondered if it was more than there would have been last semester, if Bittle had been treating him delicately since epikegster, or if he was just noticing Bittle more (but how could he notice Bittle more?).

“Parse, isn’t that bad.” Jack found himself saying. “We’re both to blame for how we are. We bring out the worst in each other. I’ve said some pretty nasty things to him too.”

“Alright.” Bitty hmm’d at him, Bitty didn’t believe it. Then after a moment. “I heard Dolly Parton coming from your room yesterday. Why was a Canadian boy listening to Dolly Parton?”

“Did I just get chirped about an appreciation for country music by a Southern boy? Aren’t you supposed to like country music more than that Be-once person you love so much?” Jack chirped back with a light in his eyes.

Bittle drew back. “You did not just mangle the name of the Queen herself. This means Beyonce listening party. There will be dancing.” Bittle stood up to get his ipod and dock. 

“I don’t dance, Bitty,” Jack called after him. “Everyone knows I don’t dance.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this is late. Life is hectic. My roommates found a bedbug, so I'm trying to figure out where to put my stuff, for when the exterminator dude comes.

“Oh, that is dirty. Look at those hands, ugh, that is good.”

Jack shook his head while Shitty moaned. He had brought Shitty to the library so they could work on their theses together, but while Jack had gotten two pages done since they got to the library, Shitty had watched at least 10 highlight reels.

“Excuse me?” The girl (an omega) at the computer station next to his (it was a busy day) asked.

“Yeah?” Jack hoped she wasn’t about to ask for an autograph.

“Can you tell your friend to stop watching porn in the library?”

“He’s not watching porn.” Jack started to explain more but she met him with a steely, unimpressed gaze and stalked off to a librarian.

She stalked back a minute later. “So, he’s not watching porn.”

“He’s not watching porn.” Jack agreed.

“Your friend’s a troll.” She snapped without much heat.

Before Jack could respond to her calling his best friend a troll, of all things, Shitty put his hand on Jack’s chest to stop him.

“She means I do obnoxious things just to get a rise out of people.” He explained.

“Oh.” Jack blinked. It described Shitty pretty well, in a way.

“Dear Jack, isn’t up on the internet lingo,” Shitty told the girl, “forgive him.” Then Shitty turned back to his computer, pushed a button, and “Oh now, this is just filthy.”

 

They had a game the next day, and while Jack liked to Skype Vivienne before games she had a game of her own that day so Jack skyped her the day before.

“Jack!” She squealed when she saw him. “Your hair is longer.”

“Ouais.” Jack laughed. “It needs a cut. How’s school?”

“School is still stupid, but I like my friends. I learned a new combination in dance class yesterday and it goes like this.” She rushed away from the computer so Jack couldn’t actually see her but he could hear her count. “Une. Deux. Trois. Quatre. Cinq. Six. Sept. Huit.” Over and over. She came back to the computer breathless with excitement. “What did you think?”

“Beautiful.” Jack said and meant it.

Vivienne loved dance and she loved hockey. Jack loved seeing how much she threw herself into things. He knew she’d have to choose between dance and hockey eventually but that time was yet to come.

Vivienne’s birthday was coming up and he had no idea what to get her. His parents had dance and hockey things covered. Vivienne was active but she also liked learning, especially things she wouldn’t learn in school. Jack didn’t know what to get her, but he did know he needed to get it soon so it could get there on time.

They won the game the next day. Still, it felt weird without Bitty on his line. Bittle had worked his way up to second line though, mostly on his own. There was not as much time for checking practice as there used to be. Early morning was when he called his dad and Pat to strategize and plan.

He missed those mornings and the expectation of starting the day by seeing Bittle’s face. So when he saw Bitty across the quad through the viewfinder on his camera looking small behind a snow drift framed in the door of an ancient building of red brick Jack snapped a picture and jogged (slogged through the snow more like) to Bitty so he’d get there before Bitty left. Did he leap over the snow drift? Maybe.

“Hey, Bittle, do you want to get some coffee? I bet it’s been a whole hour since you had that sugary stuff you like.”

Bitty beamed. “It’s been two actually. And I’d love to.”

“Jack Laurent Zimmerman,” Bitty rolled his eyes later. “Stop chirpin’ me and just try the dang latte.”

 

Jack scrolled through websites looking for Vivienne’s birthday present with Shitty’s bare chest leaning against his back. Nothing interesting was on the Toys’R’Us website; it was all separated by gender and dynamic and Jack didn’t want to pigeon hole Vivienne that way.

“Try ThinkGeek.” Shitty advised. “My cousin swears by it.”

At first, Jack thought the site was just a bunch of pop culture stuff he didn’t understand. Then he saw a game that was supposed to teach kids as young as four programming skills. “Robot Turtles.” Vivienne might like that. She liked games and she was smart. He put it in the cart.

 

Back with the Falconers management Jack was tense wondering what the demands would be this time.

“Our original demands still stand.” The lawyer, Richardson said. “We want you to join an NA group if you haven’t already and regular drug testing will be mandatory.”

Jack blanched. He expected the drug testing but, “I don’t like talking to people.”

Richardson looked unimpressed. “You want to be on the team don’t you?”

Jack grimaced with a nod. He’d do it.

“We’d also like you to be tested for steroid use and pregnancy regularly.”

“I’m on heat suppressants and birth control. It’s not going to happen.” Jack complained, mandatory pregnancy testing sounded so invasive.

“Just in case.” The lawyer smiled and Jack remembered Bitty saying the team had to cover their ass.

“You are not allowed to date anyone in the NHL.”

“I’m not—” Jack started to complain that it wasn’t something they had to worry about.

“You don’t argue and we don’t ask about Parson.” George cut him off.

Jack shut his mouth.

“And if you are seeing anyone we need to know. If you start seeing someone we need to know,” Richardson continued.

Jack sighed. “Okay.”

“No matter their dynamic.”

“Okay.” He knew they were thinking about Bitty, about the selfies of them on twitter drinking coffee at too small tables.

“He’ll have to go through media training.” George’s voice was kind.

Jack nodded, that much was obvious. Anyone close to Jack who used social media as much as Bitty did would have to go through media training.

“And” The owner, Ramsey, cut in. “In relationship to our earlier demands we don’t want you to drink in public. We all know that wasn’t what put you in rehab but it might look bad to the public.”

Jack frowned but he got it.

“Okay.” Ramsey smiled. “Would you like to see our offer?”

Jack nodded and the lawyer slid him a sheet of paper.

$1,000,500

He could have sworn his offer was going to be less. He looked up for clarification.

“The opportunity cost for an omega is greater than an alpha’s we had no choice but to offer you more.”

Jack showed the number to Pat who nodded.

“I’ll take it.”

 

Jack got home feeling like he walking on air only tumble back to the ground when he found Bitty crying in the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?”

“Betsy’s dead.” Bitty gasped. For a moment Jack was shocked, thinking Bitty meant a classmate or someone back home and then his brain caught up and he realized that Bitty meant the oven.

That might have been more harrowing. They had made it to the frozen four. Where would Bittle’s head be if he couldn’t bake? How would team moral change if he couldn’t bake? And then Jack felt like a douche because Bittle was crying and he was thinking about hockey.

“Hey.” Jack sat in the chair next to Bittle’s and awkwardly patted him on the back. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out. Maybe Dex can work some magic.”

“Dex tried.” Bitty sniffled. “Betsy is done, dead, caput. I will never again bake in her unevenly heated hutch!.”

“There’s an oven in the commons of Chowder’s dorm, maybe you can bake there.” Jack offered.

“Are you suggesting I bake in a subpar oven that has been abused by countless frogs?” Jack wailed.

Jack thought it would be best not to mention that Bitty had been baking in an oven he had just called subpar (that’s what evenly heated meant, right?) and had been abused by countless hockey players. Still he wanted to help. He wasn’t sure how, so he continued to pat Bitty’s back and tried to make soothing noises. Weren’t omegas supposed to be good at this comforting thing? Bittle turned and smiled at him.

Huh? Maybe he had this comforting thing down after all.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I pretend to know things about hockey and their is apartment hunting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted Early in the morning because I can't get back to sleep after Chicago Fire kept me up starting in the wee hours of the morning.

The final four went smoother than Jack’s anxiety anticipated but he needn’t have worried: the Wellies were a well oiled machine. Chowder actually managed to shut out the first two teams. And then they were playing Yale. Shitty gave a twisted smirk as they headed out onto the ice; the team was ready for a little retribution for last year. Jack was out to decimate and it had nothing to do with his family watching from the stands.

The game started fierce and stayed that way. Jack scored with an assist from Wilkes in the first, but then Yale got possession of the puck and for the first time in the finals a puck got past Chowder. Jack could hear Chowder hurling obscenities at the offending puck.

When the second period started Jack could feel his teeth sharp in his mouth. Yale got possession first but Ransom and Holster put a stop to that. It sounded so good when Holster collided with the Yale offenseman. Ransom passed to Shitty who got it to Jack who made their second goal. 

After that the rest of the period felt like one long fight for possession. Until Wilkes got the puck and was bowled over by a Yale defenseman. When he stood up it was obvious he had done something to his ankle and wouldn’t be skating anymore this game. They got Wilkes off the ice and Coach Murray sent in...Bitty.

Jack started to get nervous about Bitty back on the ice against Yale but then Bitty nodded at him and Jack realized no one was as hungry for a rematch as Bitty himself.

They went to work.

Bitty was honestly the fastest skater Jack has ever seen. Yale couldn’t touch him. They did get possession off Shitty in the top of third and tied things up. After that it was a fight to get the puck back. Before Jack knew it there were 30 secs until the end of the period, and he really didn’t want to go into overtime.

He made a desperate play for the puck, got it, and then, well, he could have tried to for a hatty but there was no guarantee he’d make it, so instead he passed to Bitty and Bitty sunk it into the net, right before the buzzer.

The team piled on Bitty for a celly. It was a big cheering mess of sweaty, tired, hockey bros. They won, Bitty was pressed against his side, and Jack was the happiest he’d been in a long time.

After the game (and after press), Jack searched for his family and found Vivienne asleep in his father’s arms.

“She stayed awake until the end of the game.” Alicia smiled, “She’s very proud of you.”

“You played a great game, son.” Bad Bob grinned at him and then Bob’s eyes focused on something past Jack’s shoulder. “That was an excellent shot, Bittle.” Jack turned in time to see Bittle’s cheeks go pink and something warm bloomed in Jack’s chest. Alicia gave him a knowing look and Jack tried to hide his own blush.

“We should put this one to bed.” Alicia told him. “You go celebrate with your friends.” Jack hugged his parents and kissed Vivienne’s brow, before joining his teammates.

Jack didn’t drink when they went out, aware of cellphone cameras focused on the team, on him. He wasn’t going to break his new contract before he even set foot on NHL ice. It didn’t really matter though. He was riding a high made out of Shitty’s bear hugs, congratulatory texts from Daniel, Ransom & Holsters unfathomable references, and Bitty’s smile. Jack didn’t need alcohol to feel his insides light up like Times Square. The unexpected congratulations text from Kent didn’t even keep him from feeling like the world was shining.

“You know, I think this is better than any birthday present anyone might get me.” Bitty laughed, leaning into Jack’s side, a little tipsy but not the drunkest Jack had seen him. If it was anyone else Jack would think they were dropping hints to get presents but this was Bitty, drunk and honestly this happy.

When they returned to Samwell, things were surreal. There was no more hockey. He’d completed his thesis (though Shitty was still wading through finishing his, sustained solely on Bitty’s mini-pies). His classes were all second semester senior frivoloties (he cared about Photography and it mattered to him, but in the course of his degree, it wasn’t important). He’d even gotten his signing bonus in the mail and with how much he’d already signed his contract for he didn’t have any idea of what to do with this extra money. It was weird and he couldn’t complain about it to the team, because he’d feel like a heel, complaining about having things too good. He did tell Daniel, who laughed at him, and that made him feel grounded in a way that was only second to getting coffee with Bitty.

With his new plethora of free time, it was easy to schedule in a weekend to head into Providence with his mother and Vivienne for apartment hunting. The online blogs Shitty had forwarded Jack (at Jack’s request) had differed about apartment and house hunting with child in tow, but Jack wanted to make sure that Vivienne was comfortable wherever he lived.

Traditionally, rookies roomed with another player, to help foster community on the team, make sure everyone adjusted well, but the front office had agreed that wouldn’t be a good option for Jack, so he found himself trailing after a high-heeled beta in a pristine suit, Vivienne in his arms and his mother at his side.

The first place they looked at was okay. It was a luxury apartment and condo building, sleek and fashionable but only one bedroom. Jack frowned.

“This is nice and all, but Vivienne needs a place to sleep when she visits.” Jack told the realtor, who frowned and looked between the three of them. “I want my favorite sister to come see me.” Jack tickled Vivienne’s side and she wriggled in his arms, laughing.

Jack spared a glance for the realtor and could see her opinion of him changing. He was no longer just another rich, young, alpha, sportsman, looking for a pretty backdrop to bring fawning omegas to, but someone more settled and family oriented, an alpha, probably looking to settle down, who would utilize her again, when house hunting if she did this right. 

She nodded, “Alright then. I think there are suitable units at the next couple of places I have lined up. I’ll just call ahead, to make sure we can view them.” The realtor stepped away to make the call.

“Am I really going to have my own room?” Vivienne queried, all excitement. 

“Of course.” Jack rolled his eyes. “Couldn’t have you sleeping on the floor when you visit, can I?”

Vivienne rolled her eyes back. “The guest doesn’t sleep on the floor, sotte. I’d sleep in your bed and you’d sleep on the floor.”

“All the more reason for you to have your own room, huh?” Jack teased.

They’d talked about it. He and his parents. They figured they’d start off small, Vivienne staying for a weekend or a week in the summer. They’d see how it went. And then maybe Vivienne could stay longer. They’d play it as Jack giving his parents a break and Bob and Alicia would take the time to go on vacation. Jack was excited for the time with Vivienne but he was terrified that he wouldn’t stack up as primary caregiver, even if it was just for a week at a time.

The next place was better. Jack didn’t like the carpet, but Vivienne perked up when she heard the place had a pool. The realtor glossed over the kitchen, granite counter tops, huge fridge, double sink. Jack wasn’t really listening. He was looking over at the stove a six burner behemoth with twin ovens.

“What kind of oven is that?” Jack asked.

“It’s a Viking. Top of the line.” The realtor beamed. “Do you like to cook?”

“Uh-no, but I have a friend who does.” Jack stammered and his mother raised a knowing eyebrow at him.

The realtor laughed, bright and fake, “Oh, you have an omega on the hook. You struck me as the type ready to settle down.”

Jack flushed and didn’t say anything but Vivienne poked pointedly at his cheeks. “Um, do you have any places with nice ovens, and hardwood floors?”

The realtor thought about it and smiled. “I know just the place.”

They ended up at an imposing high rise downtown. The realtor beamed at the concierge as they came in and she collected the key. They knew her here. Jack wondered about if Bitty would marvel at all the marble and chrome. He’d probably be worse than Vivienne, who he’d had to grab to make sure she didn’t walk into her reflection in the mirrored elevator doors.

The apartment wasn’t nearly as overwhelming. It was a two bedroom and two bath with high ceilings, hardwood floors, and huge windows overlooking the city, and still somehow it managed to seem homey. Maybe it was just Vivienne running through all the rooms and proclaiming that she wanted to go swimming in the tub. Jack couldn’t help but smile when he saw the kitchen. It was spacious, and tiled, with granite counter tops, and one of those big viking ovens. Jack could see a shadow of Bitty dancing and cooking and singing Beyonce songs in this kitchen. It was a sight he hadn’t seen in far too long. 

“Maman?” He asked.

“It’s good, Jack.” She nodded.

“I want this one.” Jack told the woman decisively.

“Perfect.” The realtor clapped her hands once. “Let’s get started on paperwork.”

Jack exited the highrise with a new apartment, and a foolproof idea for Bitty’s birthday. Jack took his mom and Vivienne out for dinner before heading back towards Samwell. Vivienne did her best to not fall asleep in the car on the way to the restaurant. Still, she ended up slouched sleepily in her chair, limbs akimbo, a content smile on her face, showing a hint of dimples. In this moment, she looked so much like Parse that it hurt. Parse would sit that way, tired and self-satisfied when they went out after winning a game. Was it not enough that she had so many of his recognizable features—his nose, his cowlicks, his dimples—but she had to move like him, too? Well, at least that said good things about her possible future in hockey, right? Jack realized his train of thought wasn’t fair though; Vivienne was her own person. Kent’s cowlicks and Jack’s basset hound eyes had come together to make someone altogether new, different, and wonderful.

“What color do you want to paint your room?” Jack asked before the waiter brought their food. He had a feeling that once they got it she’d take four bites and fall asleep face forward into her plate. He’d seen it happen before.

“Purple.” She yawned. “It’s my favorite.” Jack was surprised, last week her favorite color was green.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a party

When Jack got back to Samwell he took his new idea for Bitty’s birthday present and ran with it. He told Shitty first, and Shitty crowed laughter in the privacy of Jack’s room.

“I’ll help, bro,” Shitty clapped him on the back. “If I get to be best man.”

“Okay.” Jack responded before he fully processed what Shitty had said. Then he turned bright red. “Shitty! No! What? I’m not proposing! It’s a birthday present!”

“You might as well be proposing, bro.” Shitty chortled and tackled him.

Daniel laughed at him, too, when Jack told him over skype. “That is a gesture. Like that is a romantic comedy level gesture. Like that is a running towards each other and kissing outside a stalled flight on the tarmac in the rain, type gesture.”

“Stop.” Jack groaned and dragged his hand down his face.

“I can go on.” Daniel teased, but didn’t when he saw the look on Jack’s face. “Okay, okay, but I am going to send you something, that you might want after you win your man.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to tell me what it is are you?”

“Nope.” Daniel grinned. Jack hoped it wasn’t anything too lewd. He got the package next day.

Jack told Lardo next. Partly because Shitty used her as his excuse when he was caught measuring Betsy for Jack, and partly because Lardo was way better at organizing and planning things than Jack was. It was Lardo’s idea to go to Dex next, because having Dex install the oven would be a lot less obvious than having the Viking van outside of the Haus for the entire time that some workman put the thing in. Luckily, Dex seemed up to the task. Jack told Ransom & Holster the day he heard them planning a surprise kegster for Bitty’s birthday and somehow that ended up wrapped into the whole shenanigans. Nursey was next because Dex shouldn’t have to keep a secret from his D-Partner, especially not when they already had such friction. He decided to wait until the day before to tell Chowder, because Chowder was sweet, excitable and Jack had no faith in his ability to keep a secret from Bitty, who might have been Chowder’s favorite person on campus. 

The day of started with a two part ruse. Part one: keep Bitty in the dark by pretending to forget his birthday. Part two) pass Bitty off to the capable hands of the team to keep him busy for the day and out of the Haus.

When everything was ready Jack sent off two texts. One to call the team to the Haus for Bitty’s surprise party. (Shitty shouted “AVENGERS ASSEMBLE” when he got it and Jack thought he understood that reference). The second was to get Nursey to bring Bitty in.

Jack was nervous of course, but it wasn’t anxiety: this was the type of nervous he got going up a hill on a roller coaster; something amazing was going to happen and he could feel the pressure building. All the pressure burst into dizzying emotion in his chest when he saw Bitty’s face the moment Bitty spotted the new oven.

“Who?” Is all Bitty managed to choke out, his eyes already watering. 

“This was all Jack, Bits.” Shitty smiled softly.

Jack felt his cheeks heat, “Well, I couldn’t have done it without the team. Dex installed it.”

Dex rolled his eyes. “But it was your idea and you paid for it.”

Before Jack could brush off the attention, he had his arms full of crying Bitty weeping thank you’s into his shirt. 

“I have to, I have to make something.” Bitty fussed as he pulled his face away from Jack’s chest, and Jack felt cold where Bitty’s tears had left a wet spot on his shirt.

“No, no, no,” Ransom protested. “It’s your birthday. Plenty of time to make things later. Now we party.” Jack realized that people had started trickling in. Ransom & Holster must have started their sudden kegster phone tree. Nursey was plugging in Bitty’s ipod and someone was singing about how the night was still young and Bitty was in his arms and they were swaying. Jack didn’t know how it happened. He didn’t dance in public, but Bitty was warm in his arms happy, shivering, and overwhelmed, still sniffling, so he swayed. Eventually Bitty did have to go and collect birthday wishes from everyone but when he did his parting look to Jack was long.

Jack watched Bitty flit around until the party got too packed and the people got too loud and too drunk and then he slipped up the stairs to his room. 

“Jack?” Jack startled and turned. Bitty was behind him smiling up at him. “I just wanted to say thank you. It means a lot to me that you did that for me.” And then Bitty was on his tiptoes straining upwards and pressing a warm, chaste kiss to Jack’s lips. The kiss might have been chaste and brief but Jack felt like his whole body was on fire, like the world had opened up to him. Like— “I’m sorry. Did I read things wrong? I mean, I thought…”

“No!” Jack exclaimed, taking Bitty by the hand. “You read things right. I was just a little surprised. But you, uh, you read things right.” Jack bent down and kissed Bitty on the cheek, his own cheeks flushed. “You should get back to your party, we’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?”

“Of course.” Bitty beamed at him. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

 

The next afternoon, Jack pulled out the package Daniel had sent him from where he’d hidden it in his sock drawer, sent Bitty a text asking him to meet him in his room, and went to go take a shower. In the shower, Jack opened up the scentless bottle of bodywash Daniel sent and for the first time since his first heat washed himself with soaps that wouldn’t hide who he was. When he entered his room, in the shorts he went running in and an old tee-shirt, Bitty was sitting primly on the end of his bed like he was trying not to mess up the covers. 

Jack knew the exact moment Bitty smelled him. Bitty’s nostrils flared and his gaze became more focused. 

“Hi.” Jack waved lamely. “I knew, I know what your scent’s like, so I wanted to even the playing field so to speak.”

“You didn’t have to.” Bitty started.

Jack shrugged. “I wanted to.” He did, he just hadn’t known it, until he opened the package from Daniel. He wanted to be himself with someone, with Bitty, no pretense. He was big and strong and he was signed to the NHL and he loved history and he was an omega.

Bitty’s hand twitched on the bedspread and Jack took that as his cue to come forward. He tentatively crossed the room until he was standing between Bitty’s legs. One of Bitty’s hands reached for Jack’s hip. Jack liked the weight of it there, how he could feel the heat of Bitty’s hand through his shorts. Bitty’s other hand reached for the back of Jack’s neck, Jack leaned into it and Bitty slowly eased Jack down so he could get his nose into the crook of Jack’s neck, breathe him in. 

Jack had to remind himself that air was something he needed. He’d never done this with Kent. He’d never been scented before period, but this felt right: Bitty’s hand on his neck, Bitty’s nose right there where his skin was soft and sensitive. Jack didn’t need to hear the litany of calming noises Bitty was making to feel the warmth of Bitty’s breath on his neck anchoring him.

“You’re perfect.” Bitty sighed as he pulled away and pulled Jack down to sit next to him.

“So you know that I’m an omega.” Jack started after a moment and Bitty nodded. “And you know, I’m not coming out anytime soon right. If we date people will assume you’re an omega and that I’m your alpha.”

“I don’t have a problem with people thinking I’m an omega. There’s nothing wrong with being an omega.” Bitty squeezed Jack’s hand and Jack felt stronger than he had in a long time.

“And you know if we date you’re going to have to go through Falconer’s media training.” Jack teased and Bitty laughed nodding. “There’s something else to.” Jack took a deep breath. “Something that you should know.” Jack stretched and reached for his nightstand, opening the drawer and pulling out the album inside with his fingertips.

He opened it to the last page, setting it down so it was half in his lap, half in Bitty’s. The last picture in the album wasn’t the most recent. It was a picture of Jack and Vivienne at the Zimmerman’s summer house. Vivienne was about one, reaching for the camera with chubby baby fingers, smiling a mostly gummy smile, hair in short messy pigtails, she was sitting on Jack’s lap and Jack was staring down at her like she was the most precious thing in the world. 

Jack waited.

“She’s yours, isn’t she?” Bitty breathed like he was scared he might break something. Jack nodded. Bitty kissed him on the cheek. “Every time I think you’re something special, you show me you’re even more amazing than I thought.”

Jack couldn’t look at Bitty just then; he couldn’t look that much admiration in the face. He’d never expected such acceptance. So instead, he slid his finger into the hidden pocket at the back of the album, pulled out the other pictures, and told Bitty the story of Vivienne Zimmerman.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might not be as polished as some of the others because I realized that we need some down time before graduation so I wrote that over the last week.

Jack made sure that he showered again with his normal soaps before he left his room, he opened the window, and febreezed the scent of omega off his comforter, but despite renewing his efforts to hide he felt lighter. 

Jack called Georgia, who was happy for him, and said that PR would be calling Bitty for social media training ASAP.

When Jack came down to the kitchen Bitty was fussing over dinner while watching a show on Holster’s laptop with Holster and Ransom. Bitty smiled at Jack when he saw him, something bright and happy that made Jack feel like the whole world was glowing and Jack couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Try this.” Bitty scooped some of what he was making onto a spoon and guided it to Jack’s mouth before Jack could protest. It was good something rich and soft, there was meat in it, and rice, and probably enough fat content that his new team’s nutritionist would scream, but the season was over. He could live a little.

“It’s good.” Jack told him after he swallowed and Bitty kissed him on the cheek. They didn’t really talk about PDA and Jack didn’t know how he’d feel about it outside the Haus, but this was okay, good even. Even though Ransom and Holster were watching them with knowing smiles on their faces that meant they were going to tease them mercilessly and pretend like they had been waiting on this for ages. Jack couldn’t help but feel his cheeks heat under their friendly gaze, but it was obvious that while surprised his friends were happy for them and he felt the all over warmth of belonging in a place.

 

“Best man, you promised.” Shitty reminded him, when he caught Jack grinning at a slice of pie while Bitty was at a mandatory study session for his calculus class.

“Shitty.” Jack groaned and looked around but there were no places for six foot plus hockey players to hide in the Haus’ living room. It was a flaw in the building’s design.

When Bitty got back from his study group Jack let himself reach out and snag Bitty by the belt loop, pulling him into his lap. Shitty was the only one in the room, but Jack’s heart raced and he thought he was probably red all over but Bitty was warm and supple and Jack felt his heart slow back down to normal as Bitty curled a warm hand, comfortingly around the back of Jack’s neck, carding through the soft hair there. Then Bitty smiled at him blinding and white and Jack’s heart sped up for an entirely different reason. Later he would realize, he didn’t remember any of the second half of the documentary he had talked Shitty into watching with him.

 

Daniel laughed at him all warmth and good cheer whenever Jack ended up looking a bit amazed when mentioning his boyfriend.

“I’m going to have to meet this guy someday, you know.”

Jack nodded. “Of course.” It made sense that these two people in his life that had begun such a part of who he was would inevitably meet and be friends. Daniel though was taken aback by his surety. 

“You’re just like, yes, this will happen.” Daniel snorted, happy but amazed.

“Yes?” Jack was confused. It made sense to him.

“No, it’s not bad, it’s just you were so nervous and now you’re like all...loved up.” Daniel stifled a giggle at his own phrasing and then looked a little wistful. “It’s a bit like one of those old soul bond romance novels.”

Jack flushed. “It’s-it’s not magic. We’re going to have to work at it, but I want to make it work with him. I feel better with him, stronger.”

Daniel nodded. It did make you feel stronger to know you had people in your corner who adored you. Then he sighed. “I’m thinking I should give up on politics and just write an epic romance that takes place in the NHL, or like starts on a college team and ends up in the NHL.”

“Daniel….” Jack groaned, frowning at the camera.

“I’d change all the names!” Daniel argued jokingly. “Honestly, I’d be more respected in that field than in this one. One of my classmates honestly suggested that the only reason I’m thinking about applying to intern for Trudeau is because I want his knot.”

Jack’s eyes widened and his fists clenched. He wasn’t one to resort to violence but he knew how important politics was to Daniel, and the idea that some would suggest that he was in it for a knot made him want to rage. “Because you somehow care more about Trudeau’s knot then the fact that he was one of the few politicians that actually accepts omega interns?” 

Daniel had ranted to Jack about that one on more than one occasion. Supposedly the idea was that interns were often young and unbonded and that having a young, unbonded omega around would cause uncontrollable chaos. 

“Or that, you know, I agree with a lot of his politics and think he could do some good for this country and I maybe want in on that.” Daniel fumed. 

Jack was mostly okay with being okay with being an omega now, but he figured he’d be a lot more okay with it, if people didn’t suck.

 

The next day Jack met with Coach Hall to talk about his suggestions about the team next year. Coach Hall might have been the Coach, but Jack was the Captain and knew their strengths and weaknesses in ways that Hall didn’t.

“Keep Dex and Nursey together.” Jack found himself saying. “They fight all the time, but I think it’s just how they communicate.”

Coach Hall nodded. “One last thing, I’ve counted the votes for next year’s Captain and it’s tied between Oluransi and Birkhotlz, I need a deciding vote.”

Jack didn’t even have to think about it. “Co-captains. They always work better as a team. Holster is steady when Ransom is off kilter and vice versa. They already know how to share a workload between them. The team will be at it’s best if they continue working in the way they work best: together.”

Coach Hall smiled. “Thank you, Jack. That was just the information I needed.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter: in which there is graduation and hot make-outs not necessarily in that order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I wasn't supposed to post this until Tuesday, but yesterday's chapter was mostly filler and I'm sitting on my bed like tearing up about Jack and Bitty's love so I just said F it and decided to post now. <3

The first time Bitty followed Jack into his room after dinner and crawled into his lap to kiss him, Jack rubbed the pad of his thumb across Bitty’s cheek and said, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. If you’re uncomfortable with something I do tell me and we’ll stop.”

Bitty laughed, high and bright and happy, “That’s supposed to be my line, Sweetheart.”

Jack blushed, “Well, it goes both ways.”

“Good.” Bitty smiled pleased and got to the business of kissing Jack.

Bitty kissed Jack like he could spend his whole life doing it and even with the memories of waking up sticky after dreaming of Bitty (some of those nights very recent) Jack didn’t mind. This wasn’t like kissing Kent, all rushed insistence and quiet desperation; this was luxuriating in the feel of Bitty’s mouth on his, Bitty’s hands in his hair. 

The first time Jack got his hands on Bitty’s skin, he just let himself feel. There was no push to do more than learn the planes of Bitty’s body, feel the way his muscles moved under his back and how it matched the way his lips slid over Jack’s. If Jack could take a class in kissing Bitty he would, even though all this kissing meant he now had to shower at night as well as in the morning, to get the scent of omega slick off his skin. 

The end of the semester passed by faster than Jack wished. He kept trying to hold on to the time and did his best to make the most of it: he laughed in the Haus with the team while Bitty used his aversion to the couch as an excuse to sit on Jack’s lap (not like he needed an excuse), he took pictures of Shitty’s failed ice skating lessons with Lardo (Jack had never seen anyone truly hopeless on the ice before), he cheered when Ransom & Holster were officially named co-captains of the team. Somehow, though, the time seemed to slip through his fingers and before he knew it, it was graduation. 

He didn’t recognize Shitty the day their parents were supposed to get in, hair shorn and flow gone. It made everything seem final. Shitty couldn’t keep his hands from running over it, taking tactile account of the loss. Jack wanted to reach out and touch it too, maybe if Shitty’s cut hair just felt like hair, he wouldn’t feel so much like an era was ending.

Jack felt silly, because he had so much to look forward too. He was in the NHL. He had Bitty. Shitty wasn’t going to be too far away either. The world wasn’t ending, it was moving forward, but he still felt the specter of anxiety in his chest. Change was hard.

“Jack!” Vivienne surprised him, by jumping on him while Jack was distracted from his family’s arrival by the length if Shitty’s hair. 

“Vivi!” Jack scooped her up into an easier position to hold, and gave her a smacking kiss on her forehead. She was the same size as the last time he held her and Jack couldn’t help but thank God that he hadn’t missed another growth spurt in the few weeks since he’d held her last. He buried his smile in her hair, and was greeted with her normal scent of strawberry kid’s shampoo. 

“Maman, Papa.” He greeted his parents and for the first time in a long time, he could recognize that their expressions were proud. 

“Congrats, man.” Daniel startled him. He hadn’t realized that Uncle Mario and the Gretzky’s (well, Uncle Wayne, Aunt Janet, and Daniel) were there too. Uncle Mario was watching him in a way that Jack wasn’t used to. He could tell his Uncle was proud, but maybe there was something like respect in his gaze as well, or was it a modicum of understanding. 

The sound of a glass breaking in the kitchen broke Jack out of his thoughts. 

“It’s cool guys.” Dex’s voice called out.

“Chill, man.” Jack could hear Nursey’s hushed whisper.

“I opened the door for Wayne Gretzky.” Chowder’s squeak carried and Jack realized how his family had gotten into the house in the first place.

A moment later, Bitty came out of the kitchen smiling. “Everything’s under control, I pulled out a slice of pecan and the food is distracting that precious child from hyperventilating.” Jack couldn’t help the fond expression that engulfed his face. Chowder was a good deal taller than Bitty, and a good deal less innocent than Bitty pretended (but just as sweet as Bitty knew) but Bitty continued to treat Chowder like a chick to keep behind his wing. It was precious.   
Daniel raised an eyebrow at him and Jack blushed. 

“Bitty, this is Daniel, Uncle Wayne, Aunt Janet, and Uncle Mario. You’ve already met my parents and Vivienne. Everyone this is Bitty, my boyfriend.” 

Bitty turned a pleased pink when everyone’s attention shifted to him. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Zimmerman, Vivienne. And it’s a pleasure to meet all y’all, Jack speaks highly of y’all.” Bitty smiled at Daniel. “Congratulations on graduation. You’re interested in politics, right? I’d love to hear your opinions about politics but I can’t promise I’ll be able to keep anyones names straight.” Bitty turned his smile on everyone. “There’s pie if anyone wants some. I went a bit crazy in the kitchen, so there’s enough for before and after the ceremony. And Miss Vivi,” Bitty pulled out his old nickname for the girl, “I heard that you share Jack’s love for apple pie, so I made my famous maple sugar apple pie just for the two of you, how about that?” Vivienne grinned at Bitty and Bitty’s smile turned into a beam.

Jack’s heart swelled because he knew that if Bitty could he would spoil Vivienne rotten, not because he wanted to impress Jack but because he loved to see the little girl smile.

Lunch with the team and everyone’s families ended up being a raucous affair of bittersweet laughter, and Jack didn’t know where to look or what to say to whom because all the people he loved were right there and he was full to bursting. 

At graduation, Jack pretended not to notice the tears in Lardo’s eyes. He made a point of noticing Bitty’s,

“Hey, I’ll visit this summer.” He told him as Bitty straightened his tie, not meeting Jack’s eyes in an unsuccessful attempt to keep Jack from noticing how watery he was getting. “And I’ll just be in Providence, not far at all.” Bitty nodded and fussed with Jack’s pocket square. 

“I made some food for you take with you to your new place.” Bitty fussed. “Lord knows, no one wants to cook after moving in and you don’t know how to use grubhub. I’m not going to let y’all starve.” Jack wasn’t sure of what to say (but he knew he shouldn’t say that he was sure his father knew how to use the grub thing) so instead he dried Bitty’s face with his thumbs and kissed him.

Bitty’s smile when they pulled back was strong but a little sad. “It’s just the end of an era.”

“But it’s the start of a new one.” Jack smiled. He meant it and somehow the change didn’t seem that scary anymore. He was going into the NHL and he had people in his corner. He had Bitty and Shitty and Lardo and the rest of the team, just because they wouldn’t be at school together anymore didn’t mean they wouldn’t be close. He had his parents and Daniel. He’d be getting to spend more time with Vivienne, his daughter. He was an omega and he knew it didn’t make him any less than who he was. The new era was going to be bright. 

Bitty’s smile lost most of it’s wistful air as he gazed up at this Jack who was ready to greet the future. “To the new era.” 

He and Jack kissed and it was filled with promises of the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cough*Imightbeworkingonasequel*cough*
> 
> We'll see.


End file.
